Walk Away - J/B
by Kylia
Summary: And old case brings about some changes for the partners


**TITLE: Walk Away   
AUTHOR: Kylia (kylia_bug@yahoo.com)  
DISCLAIMER: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Pet Fly, and a few other people I don't know.  
ARCHIVE: Yes. List archives, anywhere else, let me know where, and its yours.  
RATING: R  
PAIRING: Jim/Blair  
CATEGORY: Romance; angst.  
SPOILERS: General season 4. "The Sentinel By Blair Sandburg" never happened.  
WARNINGS: This will eventually have m/m sex I know why else would you be reading, but I thought I should stick the customary warning in here anyway :)  
SUMMARY: And old case forces issues and decisions better left unsaid.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first venture into TS territory, although I have written other fic before.  
FEEDBACK: Please. I'd like to know whether I should stick to my other fandoms.  
DEDICATION: To Liz.  
********** **

Blair Sandburg rushed through the halls of Rainier. He was late. Really late and Jim was going to be pissed. Of that he was certain. Jim had spent nearly an hour that morning telling him how important it was for him to be on time that afternoon. And he had planned on being there on time, early even. But, as is the usual, the anthropologist was sidetracked.

An unexpected department meeting, mid-terms, and unrelenting students whining about grades all contributed to his being late and he hoped that whatever it was they were supposed to do this afternoon wasn't on a tight time schedule.

Parking his car hurriedly, Blair made his way through the precinct into Major Crimes. His eyes swept the room, looking for his Sentinel. Finding the desk empty, Blair worried that Jim had already left.

"You're late." Henri Brown laughed in his ear from behind him.

Blair whirled around. "Yeah, I know."

H nodded his head towards Simon's office. Blair followed the motion and found Jim listening to something the captain was saying. Whatever it was brought a scowl to Jim's face and not for the first time, Blair wished he had Jim's senses.

Shaking his head, he sat down in front of Jim's computer and began working on some of the never-ending paperwork. Whatever it was that had Jim frowning, he would hear about it soon enough.

**** 

"This case is very high profile. I can't afford to have anyone else working on it. You're my best team." Simon looked over at Jim to make sure he was paying attention. "Where is Sandburg anyway?"

Jim nodded his head slightly towards his desk, where Blair looked to be engrossed in paperwork. He had heard the familiar beat of his Guide's heart long before he had made his way into Major Crimes.

Simon followed his gaze and nodded. "Good." He waved his hands toward the door. "Get going." Simon watched as his best detective left his office and made his way towards his partner. He wondered briefly if he would ever understand the dynamics of their relationship, and then just as briefly wondered if he really wanted to.

**** 

"Hey, Chief, let's go." Jim grabbed his jacked and headed towards the door, not even pausing to see if Blair would follow him.

Once Blair climbed into the truck he turned to his best friend. "Jim, man, I'm sorry about being late. I had this impromptu meeting, and then some students were asking about their grades, and mid-terms, and" he paused, realizing Jim hadn't said anything, "Jim, man, you okay? What did Simon say?"

Jim listened to Blair's explanation and was soothed by the sound of his voice. He had been on edge all week and his caseload had doubled, causing him to lose more nights of sleep than he could actively remember. His Guide's work at the university had caused them to not see much of each other except the hurried morning when they were both rushing out to work.

He had been so adamant about Blair not being late more because he wanted to make sure he'd actually make it to the station than because he had an appointment they couldn't miss. But then this case had been thrown in their laps and he was glad to have Blair with him. Too glad to even be upset that the anthropologist was late. He was always late.

"Jim?" The voice was questioning, but yet soothing in its calmness as a hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder lightly. "You alright?"

Jim blinked, bringing reality back into focus. He turned his head slightly and smiled reassuringly. "Yeah. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Jim handed him a folder that he had thrown onto the dash of his truck and waited for the anthropologist to read through the information there.

Blair read through all the information and looked up at Jim. "Gina Villarandes? Is she related to that body that was found from that case we worked last year? Or is this just a coincidence?"

Jim smiled. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"I didn't think so. So, where are we going? And do we actually expect to find anything?"

"That warehouse they were using last year was cleared out, but we never went back after that explosion. I was hoping maybe something might have been left behind." Jim explained as he turned off of the freeway.

Blair nodded. He had a feeling there was something else Jim wasn't saying, but knew that when he was ready, he'd talk about it. As the truck was pulled into the parking lot, Blair remembered the last time that they had been here. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

John Villarandes had been a mercenary who was stockpiling weapons and explosives. It was uncertain what exactly he was going to do with them. Sell them to the highest bidder maybe? Finance his own little war? They weren't sure, and never found out. 

They had tracked him to this warehouse and had gone in after him. Jim had had a major zone-out. Sensory overload had nearly cost him his life. Blair had barely pulled him out of there before the first explosion hit. Several more had followed and it had taken a team nearly a week to find all the body parts left from their mercenary friend.

The case had been closed but there had always seemed like there was something else some piece of the puzzle that they had missed. There was something about that day at the warehouse that Jim had never told him. Some reason behind the near-fatale zone-out that the detective had failed to share.

It was this event, more than any other, which had brought several events in the anthropologist's life into focus. Things he could no longer ignore, but yet had continued to hide. He wondered if this new case was going to bring the past forward to bite him in the ass.

**** 

Gina Villarandes looked through her binoculars and smiled. Perfect. She knew it was only a matter of time before they took the bait and ensnared themselves in her trap. Then, she could finish what was started, and her cousin would have his justice.

**** 

Jim looked around the charred wreckage carefully. His eyes scanning every inch of space, seeing things no one else could possibly see, and still, finding nothing. He extended his senses as far as he could, without zoning, hoping for something, anything that would give him a clue as to what John Villarandes had been doing in this warehouse, and where they could find Gina.

She was an enigma, as far as he could tell. When they had tracked John to Cascade, and to the warehouse, little was known about his partner. Only that he had one, and they were just as dangerous, if not more so than John himself. However when John died in an explosion of his own creation, nothing was ever discovered about his partner, or their whereabouts.

As time passed, and the case was stamped unsolved, Jim had moved on to other cases. But there was always something about that one that never made sense. Some piece of information he had been missing. He had no doubt that eventually the elusive partner would resurface. It looked like that time had come.

"Jim." Blair's voice came from somewhere behind him.

"What is it, Chief?" Jim turned around to find his partner digging through a pile of burned wood and plastic.

"I think I found something." Blair began throwing the burnt pieces around, trying to reach a heavily singed metal box, which had been buried. After several seconds, he reached the handle and pulled it forth.

"A safe box?" Jim asked incredulously. "In the middle of a warehouse?" He shook his head. That didn't seem right.

Blair ignored his question and began trying to pry the latch on the box. Nearly a minute later the pop of the latch being broken sounded in the silent warehouse. "Got it." 

Jim stepped forward and pulled the lid opened, carefully. He wasn't sure what he had expected to be in there, but whatever it was, it wasn't what he found.

"Well, what do we have here?" Jim looked at his partner with a raised eyebrow.

Blair matched the expression with one of his own. Inside the metal box was money. Lots of it, stacked neatly. At the very top was a small slip of paper with a name and an address.

"Brian Whitaker. Should I know that name?" Blair asked aloud.

"No, but I should." Jim grabbed the box and started walking out of the warehouse, Blair following behind him.

**** 

Gina Villarandes watched through binoculars as her prey left the warehouse, bait firmly in hand. She smiled to herself. The trap was set. It was only a matter of time.

Once they were gone, Gina made her way towards the warehouse herself. After coating every conceivable surface liberally with gasoline, she made a trail from the center of the building out to just outside the door, where she lit the fuse, as it were, with a book of matches.

She was nearly two blocks away by the time the explosion was felt shaking the very foundation of the road. Turning around briefly, she saw the flash of flames and the billowing smoke they created. Shaking her head at the mess, Gina disappeared down a side road.

She knew that it was unlikely that there had been anything in the warehouse to help Ellison in his search for answers, but she couldn't take that chance. Blowing up the building seemed like the safest course of action. Besides the building itself held the key to what it was her and her cousin had been doing in Cascade, and she couldn't take the risk of anyone finding out what had happened here, and why.

**** 

Blair watched his best friend carefully. Jim was driving down the road, steadily, not paying more attention than was necessary to operate the truck. Something was bothering him. His face was set in a stony mask and his jaw kept clenching and unclenching.

"You gonna tell me who Brian Whitaker is?" Blair asked quietly after several minutes.

Jim ignored him until they pulled into the parking lot of the Cascade PD. "No."

Blair nodded to himself as he climbed out of the truck.

Jim was nearly inside the building when he realized that Blair wasn't following him. He turned around and saw Blair open the door to his own car, several yards away. "Chief?"

Blair stopped and turned around. "I have work to do. When you're ready to talk about whatever has you all tied up you know where to find me." Blair climbed into his car and started the engine, thanking whatever God that would listen that it actually started.

He sat in the car, waiting, hoping, that Jim would stop him. That he would come over and tell him not to leave. That he would trust him enough to share whatever it was that was bothering him. When he dared to look up, he saw that Jim wasn't even there anymore. He had gone inside, leaving Blair alone. Always alone.

Isn't that what it always amounted to?

Blair backed out of his parking space as he thought about his situation. He wasn't entirely certain what it was he was doing. He didn't need Jim anymore, at least not for his research. And Jim certainly didn't need him. So why? Why did he continue to follow him around? Why did he still live with him? Why did he continue to insinuate himself into Jim's life, knowing all the while that he was more of an annoyance than anything else?

The answer was simple. Love. Such as simple word for such a complex emotion. Although it wasn't complex. Not really. Blair loved Jim. He probably had from that very first moment when he had walked into that hospital room and made some excuse about the pronunciation of the name of the doctor he was impersonating.

One look into those eyes, and he knew that he could get lost there, and he had. Completely and utterly lost. He knew, even then that his life would never be the same. The moment he had seen Jim come into his office, he knew that his fate had been sealed.

Blair sighed as he pulled into a parking space at Rainier University. He needed to get his mind off of Jim and on to something he actually had control over.

The university was all but abandoned this time of evening, and that suited him just fine. He walked into his office and settled down in his desk and began to go over midterms. It was nearly three hours later when his vision started to blur and he closed the program he was working on.  
  
He had finished working on his notes for his next class and had begun the final draft of his dissertation. He had had to do some creative editing in order to keep Jim's name out of it, but in the end, he felt that it was not only worth it, but the study had not been compromised by his altering of the facts.

Feeling confident with what he had written, Blair saved the file and began to print a fresh copy out. He had an appointment with the Dissertation committee in three days, and wanted to give Jim time to read and approve of the final draft.

As the printer began spitting out pages, Blair turned to his window and looked out at the stars shining outside, and was lost once again in his own thoughts. He needed to decide what to do. Should he look for another place to live? Should he leave Cascade?

He wanted desperately to stay, to continue to be Jim's Guide, for the rest of his life. But the reality was that Jim didn't really need a Guide anymore, and he certainly didn't need him as a partner, nor did he probably want one.

But could he leave? Could he pack up his things and walk out of Jim's life? He didn't think so, but he may not have a choice in the matter.

So lost in his own thoughts, Blair failed to hear the sound. It wasn't until he felt the cold metal against his back that he realized he wasn't alone. 

***** 

Jim rubbed his eyes as he looked at his computer screen. He was tired, and he hadn't gotten very far in finding the information he needed. He tried not to look at the clock. Not to notice how late it was, or the fact that Blair hadn't called him, or gone home himself.  
  
He had checked. He had called the loft no less than half a dozen times in the past two hours. No answer. He was tempted to call Blair's cell phone, but refused to let his Guide know that he cared that much.

He still had no answer to the questions that Blair had asked. He wasn't even sure he knew what the questions were. This case was bringing about memories he had wanted to stay buried. John Villarandes died because of his own stupidity, but it was Jim's inaction, his refusal to use the weapons at his disposal, which had haunted him.

His near-fatale zone-out which had caused the explosion. And the reasons behind that Zone-out were something he wasn't ready to admit, yet. At least not to Blair. There was too much at stake to take that risk. 

Jim shook his head, clearing his thoughts away, until he had time to deal with them. Right now, he had work to do. Typing in some new information into the computer, he waited for the results to be pulled up.

Nearly forty minutes later, he was emersed in a file. He compared the information in John Villarandes file with what he knew of Brian Whitaker, trying to come up with some connection. Something, anything that would explain his name with the money they had found.

As he searched his mind for the answers, he felt a cold chill run down his spine. He froze. Blair was in trouble. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did.

Jumping away from his desk, the Sentinel rushed away from Major Crimes and practically ran to his truck. His Guide was in trouble.

**** 

Blair stiffened at the feel of the metal through his shirt. He continued looking outside, and waited for the intruder to say something. When no further sound was heard, Blair began to relax, if only slightly.

He recognized that he was in a very precarious position, but there wasn't much he could do at this point, not until the person with the gun made some sort of move. 

"Are we going to stand here all night?" He knew that one day his mouth would get him into trouble and maybe today was that day.

Blair felt the weapon removed from his back and started to turn around cautiously. He had barely turned to face his attacker when he felt that same cold metal smacked up against his forehead. He could feel his feet giving out under him just as the pain started to reverberate in his head. And then everything went black.

Gina Villarandes watched the body fall to the ground and smiled. She walked back out to the hall as she holstered her gun. When she reached the deserted hallway she nodded to the two men who were waiting outside.

"Put him in the truck and take him back to the warehouse."

One of the men, Paul Brandison, looked up at her. He was young, but his eyes were hard, as if he had seen a lot of death in his young life. "Where are you going?"

Gina smiled viciously. "I have a message to deliver to our dear Detective Ellison."

Paul nodded and went into Blair's office to retrieve the body.

After they were gone, Gina re-entered the office and left a calling card on the anthropologist's desk. She knew that he would know it was a trap, but it was doubtful he would be able to resist going anyway. 

He would risk his life to save his partners, just as he had all those months ago. Blair Sandburg was Jim Ellison's weak link, and she intended to exploit it.

**** 

  
Jim Ellison wasted no time in getting to the University. He wasn't entirely certain what it was that drove him. What had caused his sudden insight to know that Blair was in trouble, or how he knew exactly where to find him. It was rather late, and on a normal night, Blair would most likely have been long gone by now.

But somehow, despite all of that, Jim knew he would find his Guide there. At least he hoped he did. But the closer he got to Blair's office, the more wrong everything seemed.

He entered the office cautiously, listening for any out of place sounds. Unfortunately the sound which was ever present in his mind was the one that wasn't there. Blair's heartbeat. A sound he could track anywhere. Could find in any room, among any mass of people. It was gone. And for a split second, he feared the worst.

Pushing his fears aside, Jim made his way into the office, turning up all of his senses in an effort to figure out what may have happened. The room itself looked no different than it usually did, except he noticed that there were several sheets of paper lying on the floor beneath his desk. It looked as though they had fallen out of the printer.

Jim examined the desk, paying special attention to the printer. He noticed that it was on, and still had a piece of paper sitting in the tray, as well as several more beneath it. The computer itself was still on and showing what, at first glance, looked to be a report of some sort. On closer inspection, Jim recognized a few key phrases and realized it was Blair's dissertation.

He bent down to pick up the papers, which had fallen there. Sure enough, there was his research, all laid out in terms only a scientist could understand. Jim smiled fondly for a second, before he remembered why he was there.

Finding the office empty, and Blair's dissertation sprawled along the floor, told Jim that something had happened. His Guide never would have left his work unattended like this.

Walking away from the desk, Jim examined the room more closely, turning up his sense of smell. He could still smell Blair's scent in the air, which considering this was his office, and he had been here recently, wasn't surprising.

However, he could also smell a number of things, which he normally didn't. The faint hint of a woman's perfume, the smell of sweat from two people who were *not* his guide, the familiar odor of gun oil, and a slight hint of blood. Blair's blood.

He recognized the smell from shortly after the two had met and a dozen other times since then. He traced the smell to a small spot on the floor. It wasn't much more than a speck, and obviously wasn't caused by any significant damage.

Even so, the idea that he had been wounded, obviously by someone carrying a gun, if the smell of gun oil was any indication. He searched the room one more time, looking for any sign of what could have happened and why.

Spotting a small box on the windowsill of the office, Jim narrowed in on it with all five senses, examining it for any traces of an explosive or other danger. Finding none, the Sentinel picked up the box and carefully opened it.

Inside there was a slip of paper and a small piece of clay. He didn't recognize the clay as anything significant, but held onto it just the same. The paper was folded in half and held one word on the top. 

"Boo." Jim read aloud. He opened the paper and read the taunt. "Come and get me."

The handwriting was clear and concise, but the paper held the faint trace of lotion, no doubt from the hands of the one who wrote it. He could also pick up a whiff of the perfume he smelled when he first entered the room.

He frowned, not entirely certain where to find Blair. The note had said he should come and get him. A trap, obviously, but that didn't matter. He had to find Blair, no matter the cost. The question now was were to look? There wasn't an address provided, which was odd, considering it was a trap.

He left the office in a rush, suddenly realizing where he could go to find his missing partner.

Brian Whitaker. He hadn't heard that name for months, until earlier that day. And he would be perfectly happy to never hear it again. He had threatened to destroy his life and the most important thing in it.

After the building had exploded and John Villarandes body was discovered, in pieces, Jim had gone looking for Whitaker, only to find he had disappeared. He had been furious to find him gone, but eventually hoped that he had seen the last of him. 

Now it appeared, that wasn't the case and all his fears and concerns came rushing back. He didn't know if he was ready to face the things that happened all those months ago. If he was ready to tell Blair why he had zoned. If Blair would even understand his reasons. And if he did understand, would he blame him for them? Would he hate him? He didn't know, and was afraid to find out.

Jim climbed into his truck as he pushed his fears and concerns to the back of his mind. Two blocks away from the address they had found in the box at the warehouse, Jim got a sudden chill. He didn't know what had caused it. The temperature in the truck hadn't been significantly altered. But something was wrong, he could feel it.

Suddenly, he changed gears and turned the truck around abruptly. He drove towards the industrial end of town, towards where the warehouse was located. He wasn't sure what was driving him there, but he had the sudden need to go back to where it had all started.

Pushing his foot on the gas pedal, Jim sped down the road, hoping he wasn't wasting his time, and putting his Guide's life further in danger.

**** 

Blair came to with a sharp pain in his head. He tried to move but found his body was hanging limply from several thick chains. With a slight groan, he opened his eyes, and shuddered at the sight which greeted him. 

The warehouse. Or, at least what had once been the warehouse. It was in worse shape than it had been earlier that day when they found the safebox. And if the smell was any indication, someone had attempted to burn the building down. Attempted, and very nearly succeeded. There wasn't much left, aside from a handful of structural beams, one of which he was chained from, and charred and burnt wreckage. Smoke was still thick in the air, and burned his eyes.

Sucking in a breath to calm his nerves, the anthropologist looked around frantically, searching for any sign of his kidnapper.

"Good, you're awake. I'd hate for you to sleep through the good stuff."

Blair turned his head around, trying to face the voice. It was a woman's voice he didn't recognize, but he had a pretty good idea he knew who it was. 

"The good stuff?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and his heart from beating out of his chest.

The woman walked around so Blair could see her clearly. She was smiling, but it wasn't a nice expression. "Why, your death of course."

Blair nodded carefully. "Of course." He jiggled his chains trying to get loose, to no avail.

"Don't you even care why you're going to die?" The woman asked, curious as to why he didn't seemed surprised by his eminent death.

Blair tried to shrug, but not very successfully. "Let me guess. You want to get to Detective Ellison, for some contrived reason, and you think kidnapping me, or killing me, or whatever, is the way to do it." He paused and took a deep breath. "But it won't work."

Gina Villarandes arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Blair closed his eyes as his head continued to throb. "Because, either he'll get here and stop you before you kill me. Or, he'll get here after you kill me. Either way, you'll be in jail, and he'll go on with his life." He spoke the words as calmly as he could muster, all the while hoping that Jim wouldn't be able to move on with his life quite so easily.

Gina laughed. "Even if you are correct, and I did go to jail, you're Mr. Ellison would be tortured with the knowledge that he could have saved you and didn't. He failed."

Blair opened his eyes at the grating sound of her laughter. "You overestimate my importance." Blair groaned as his wrists scraped against the chains.

"Gina waved him away. "Enough talk." She walked around him and he strained to see what she was doing, but the angle prevented him from moving. So he closed his eyes and tried to listen instead. He didn't have Jim's senses but he could still use what he did have.

He heard her walk several feet behind him and speak to someone. The words were whispered and he couldn't make out much of anything. After a few minutes she started walking towards him once again, still staying behind him.

He heard her stop just behind him. If he had been capable of moving in a more fluid manner he might have had a chance of taking her out. But as it was, he could do little more than hang like some bass caught on a fishing line. He felt her press something to his back, just a couple of inches above his tailbone, and instinctively knew it was a gun.

"You may be right, but I don't think so." She spoke softly. "Say goodnight Mr. Sandburg."

Blair closed his eyes in resignation. "Goodnight Mr. Sandburg."

He heard the trigger being pulled just milliseconds before he felt the pain. It ripped through his body, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He tried to remain conscious as he felt his own blood sliding down his body. His body went limp as he struggled to stay awake. The pain was spiraling through him as his head continued to pound furiously.

His entire body began to go numb as he slipped from consciousness, and drifted into death.

****   
The instant Jim drove into the parking lot, he knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong. That feeling was only multiplied when he climbed out of his truck and made his way towards the building at light speed. It wasn't the charred wreckage of what had been a fairly safe warehouse only hours before, or even the knowledge that someone had purpose destroyed the building, obviously right after he and Blair had left. It wasn't even the absence of any vehicles as far as he could see.

It was the silence. A stillness that didn't seem natural. The air itself seemed stagnant, despite the fact that the warehouse no longer had a roof to speak of, giving it an 'open-air' quality.

Even with his senses dialed down, he could smell the burned wood and plastic and the feel of the smoke stung his eyes. He turned his senses up slightly, searching for something, anything that would tell him what had happened here and why.

At first there was nothing. Nothing but the smell of burnt wreckage, gasoline and smoke, and the faint hint of the chemicals, which had caused the original explosion, were still drifting through the air. The sight of all the broken beams and fused metal was like a kaleidoscope on his sensitive eyes. 

What startled him the most was the silence. He had been so sure that Blair would be here, but he couldn't sense him. Couldn't see him among the wreckage, for which he was thankful. He couldn't hear his breathing or the sound of his heart. He couldn't even smell him, not above the thick smoke, which was still visible in the air, if he looked hard enough.

Jim concentrated, turning down his taste and touch, while turning up his sense of smell and hearing, hoping to find some trace of Blair somewhere, or something that would tell him he had been wrong and Blair wasn't here at all.

Suddenly, he heard it. The faint sounds of a heart beating. It was weak, and accompanied by the ragged sounds of shallow breathing. Stepping closer to where he thought the sound was coming from, Jim's sensitive nose picked up the smell of blood.

Blair's blood. He would recognize the scent anywhere. And this time, unlike earlier in the office, there was a lot of it. He tore through a heavy sheet of metal, which was obstructing his way into a back section of the warehouse.

When he reached his destination, he looked around frantically for his Guide, all his senses now trained on the rapidly dwindling heartbeat.

When he found him, his heart stopped. He was chained up to one of the few standing structural beams, his body hanging limply like an animal which had recently been slaughtered, a puddle of his own blood pooling on the ground below where his feet hovered in the air, held up by the chain.

Jim's movements were so quick that he barely even recognized he was moving. He didn't even realize what he was doing until it was done. He forcefully pulled Blair from the manacles, calling 911 as he did so. He didn't even hear his own voice speaking as he gave his address to the operator.

He slumped to the floor, holding the limp body in his arms, saturating himself in his partner's blood. 

"Chief, you gotta be okay." He whispered more to himself than to the slowly dying body in his arms.

His hands were covered in his Guide's blood as he felt the opening of the wound. He closed his eyes and concentrated on nothing but touch. Feeling where the hole had ripped through that precious body, leaving a gaping wound that he wanted desperately to fix. He could feel the blood as it continued to flow, the nerves as they ceased to function correctly, the damage that was even now still being done, long after the bullet had made itself at home in a body it should never have had a chance to enter.

Jim could see nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, smell nothing. Touch was all that was left. The feeling of the sticky blood oozing out of Blair's body. The feel of the heart growing weaker against his chest, the feel of the tremors as Blair struggled to breath. The feel of his own heart constricted against the shock of a loss he wasn't prepared to deal with.

Distantly, he heard the sound of a siren, but it sounded so far away, in another time and place. He could almost see movement in front of his eyes, but it was hazy, as if he wasn't really seeing anything at all. It wasn't until he felt his one connection to reality moved from his arms that he began to snap out of it. 

"Sir." 

Jim tried to shake his head, tried to come back to the present, but without the calming influence of his guide it wasn't working. He was lost.

"Sir. Sir, are you all right? Are you hurt?" A voice asked him, but it seemed like it was muffled by time and distance.

"I'll take care of him." Anther voice, this one slightly familiar.

"Jim?" Someone was touching him, but it wasn't the calming touch of his Guide.

"Jim, come on, snap out of it." 

Jim blinked, reality suddenly coming back into focus. He turned his head towards the voice speaking to him.

He opened his mouth but was having trouble speaking. "Simon?"

"Come on. Let me take you to the hospital. Get you checked out." Simon Banks began leading Jim away from the spot he had been frozen in, for who knew how long.

"Blair he's" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"The paramedics have him." Simon assured him, although he wasn't entirely certain how much good they would do.

Jim stopped and looked back at the scene, the blood still filling his senses, just as it covered his hands. "He was shot." Jim stated.

Simon nodded sadly. "I know." He lead Jim away, taking advantage of the fact that Jim wasn't completely coherent.

***** 

Hours had passed. He wasn't sure how many. He had been pacing frantically in the waiting room for what seemed like an eternity, but what Simon had assured him was less than three hours. Three incredibly long hours. Three hours in which he had envisioned the worst possible outcomes of this nightmare come to life.

Simon had tried to get him to sit down. Rafe had tried to get him to take a walk. Henri had tried to distract him with talk of sports and the latest Jags game. Even Connor had tried to get him to talk about something, other than Blair and what was happening to him.

They all failed.

The only thing that kept him from losing it all together was the sound of Blair's heartbeat. It had gotten stronger since coming to the hospital, but still sounded far weaker than it should.

He had tracked the sound mere seconds after walking through the hospital doors. Despite the varying sounds, smells and sights, Jim could track Blair's heartbeat anywhere. It was the sound of that one heart, still beating inside his partners wounded body that calmed him, if only somewhat.

It didn't, however, stop him from pacing, or growling when someone got too close. In the back of his mind, he realized he must look like some rampant animal, accidentally let loose from its cage, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

So instead, he paced, and he waited.

**** 

Simon watched as his best detective snarled angrily at an orderly who tried to get him to go home and get some rest. He knew that that wasn't a possibility. They had been in the waiting room for nearly seven hours, and had no clue as to what was happening to Sandburg.

Simon was almost relived for that. He knew that as long as some sad-faced doctor hadn't come in to tell them that he had died on the operating room table, then there was still hope. A limited hope, he was aware, but hope nonetheless.

And as tightly wound as Jim was at this moment a slight hope was better than none at all. He had not been surprised when the other detectives had opted to wait it out at the station, where they would actually do some good.

It was probably for the best. Jim was in no condition to be comforted. He didn't need to be coddled and told everything would be all right, and he certainly didn't need well meaning friends trying to cheer him up.  
  
Nothing could accomplish that, short of Sandburg himself walking into the waiting room with that grin of his that seemed to make Jim smile back, without even really realizing it.

It was with sudden dread that Simon looked up to find a doctor entering the waiting room. She looked to be in her early forties and on the high side of exhaustion. She looked around the room, searching for someone.

"Detective Ellison?" She asked the room at large.

Jim stepped closer, fear etched in his features. "Yes." He paused, not sure if he could continue.

"How is he?" Simon asked stepping forward. "Blair Sandburg. Will he be alright?"

The doctor smiled slightly, but her eyes held a sadness in them. "He'll live," She told them.

Jim sighed in relief and then looked up at the doctor as his mind registered something. "But?"

The doctor reached out a hand and placed it on his arm in reassurance. "There's been some complications."

****   
Blair felt light-headed. For a minute he thought maybe he had been meditating too long. Then he felt it. A breeze. He opened his eyes and felt a gasp trying to work its way through. He shut his mouth and looked around, slightly surprised by his surroundings.

He was in a jungle, lush and green, and full of life. The life of creatures he had never seen, except in this place, this time. Where everything was still. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, except that which existed here, in this perfect place. This place of beauty and wonderment.

This place that wasn't real. Not in the conventional sense of the word. But reality was relative.

Blair looked around as he stood up carefully, not wanting to disturb anything. He could sense the birds watching him, but was hesitant to look up. It would somehow lessen the experience for them to see him watching them as they were watching him.

He heard a growling noise from somewhere to his right and turned his attention that way.

There was a panther standing about three yards away, watching him intently, waiting. Waiting for what, Blair wasn't certain.

Blair stepped forward cautiously. "Who are you?"

The animal cocked its head slightly as if thinking about the question. After a moment it turned around and disappeared behind some trees and bushes. They looked too lush and green to be real, but somehow, Blair knew they were.

He wanted to follow the panther, but was afraid. To do so would be handing over something, which he was not sure, he was brave enough to relinquish. He froze, there in the middle of the jungle. Not sure whether to stay in this spot, or follow the magnificent animal.

"You do not know what to do." The softly spoken words startled him and he looked around, searching for the source, although he was keenly away that they seemed to come from within as opposed to without. Still he looked.

There was a large owl perched on an extended tree branch inches from his face. The owl was staring at him, searching him for something, although he didn't know what.

"Are you speaking to me?" Blair asked, aware that that was a stupid question.

The owl's head rotated slightly, although it's eyes still remained focused on Blair. "Of course, silly. Who else would come here, to me?"

Blair looked around again. "Where is here?"

"This is the beginning. And the ending." The owl moved and Blair reached out a hand. The creature perched itself on his arm.

Blair turned his attention away from the animal and looked around again, a memory threatening to reassert itself.

"I have been here before." It was a statement, not a question.

"And you will be again."

Blair stepped forward, moving towards the trees the panther had disappeared through. He walked in silence for several minutes, finally reaching the mouth of a cave. The cave was familiar but he could not remember ever being there before.

The silence was broken by a painful howl, which reverberated, through the jungle, followed by the anguished cry of another animal.

"What was that?" Blair asked the owl.

"Here, the Panther is guided by its mate. The one who gives it a reason to protect all that it is, and ever shall be." The owl spoke gently. "Without it's mate, the panther is lost. Without reason, without purpose. Its rage is tangible."

Blair felt his heart going out to the animal. "What happened to its mate?"

The owl's wings flapped slightly. "See for yourself."

They were standing right at the entrance of the cave now and Blair took a cautious step forward, unsure of what he would see once he went inside. He placed a hand on the coolness of the wall of the cave. 

It was dark inside and he struggled with his vision. After several long seconds, he could make out movement in front of him. He inched closer, trying to discern what it was he was seeing.

There, in the central area of the cave was the panther, large and sleek, and commanding. But what was so noticeable about it was the way it moved. It paced the confines of the cave, fury emanating from its sleek body.

The panther turned its head and stared at Blair, as if it was trying to decide if it was friend or foe. Finally, the Panther turned back to it's pacing. Every few minutes it would get a little too close to the other occupant of the cave and a fierce growl could be heard, warning the panther away.

The growl seemed to injure the panther in a way that wasn't physical. Blair could feel the pain that etched itself in the eyes of the panther every time the growl was heard. 

He stepped closer to the animal, trying to get a look at the other creature, which was causing this magnificent panther such pain.

There, in one dark corner of the cave lay another animal. But this one was not a panther, or even a member of the feline family. It was a wolf. It was hard to discern its true color in the darkness of the cave, but it looked to be light in color. Grey, or almost white.

But it wasn't it's coloring, or even the power he could sense in its body that drew Blair's attention. It was its eyes. So filled with pain and anguish. It was huddled in the corner, trying to make itself invisible. Invisible from it's own pain and the pain it was causing its mate.

It was wounded, that much Blair could see, although he wasn't certain how. He was leery to get too close to the animal. Judging from the occasional anguished howls and the fierce growls emanating from the wolf, it was safe to assume it wanted to be left alone.

Easier said than done. It was obvious the panther had no intention of leaving the wolf alone, to die, in its own misery. Blair stepped closer to the wolf, cautiously. The wolf looked up, and their eyes locked and for a moment, Blair saw himself in those dark, pain-filled eyes.

Then everything was gone. The wolf, the panther, the owl. The jungle still surrounded him, but he was alone. 

***** 

  
"Complications?" Jim asked, trying to remain standing on his own two feet, despite the fear that had settled itself in his gut.

The doctor smiled slightly. "Why don't we go to my office?" He motioned towards the door leading out of the waiting room.

Jim was frozen in his place, unable to move, or even think clearly. He felt Simon's hand on his shoulder as he guided him out of the waiting room and down the hall. They were following the doctor, but Jim was only barely aware of the movement or his surroundings.

The doctor stopped in front of a large door with a window. She pushed the door open and walked inside, holding the door open for Simon and Jim. Once they had entered, she closed the door behind them and walked around to the desk, motioning for the men to sit down.

Jim sat down heavily in a large chair and waited for the doctor to speak. She seemed to be struggling with what to say.

"What's wrong with Sandburg? Blair?" Simon corrected.

The doctor looked from Simon to Jim, back to Simon again, finally deciding he would probably be easier to speak to.

"The bullet was lodged in his spine. Considering the angle of entry, its location was not surprising." She paused, unsure of how she could explain what she had found during surgery.

Jim's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Did you get it out?" He asked, his voice sounding hollow, even to himself. "The bullet? Did you remove it?"

The doctor looked down to her desk, avoiding the detective's eyes.

"Doctor?" Simon asked, suddenly growing concerned.

The doctor looked up at Simon, compassion showing in her eyes. "Hamilton. Marguerite Hamilton." She told him softly and then turned sad eyes to Jim. "We did remove the bullet."

"But?" Jim asked, knowing there was more.

"The bullet was unlike anything I have ever seen." She sighed. "Whoever made it, knew what they were doing." She opened a folder sitting on her desk and took out a piece of paper and handed it over to the two men. "It was covered in" she pointed across the desk to the report. "Some chemical we can't identify."

"A chemical?" Jim asked as he took a closer look at the report. 

Doctor Hamilton nodded. "We don't know what it is, but we do know what it does."

Simon took a deep breath. "What does it do?" He dreaded the answer.

"It completely emersed itself in Mr. Sandburg's body."

"You make it sound like a poison." Simon commented, trying to figure out what exactly the doctor was telling them.

Doctor Hamilton thought about that. "In a way I guess it is. The chemical's purpose was to subvert several of the nerves in his body. It was very successful."

Jim stood up and began pacing angrily. "What exactly are you telling me? That the person, who shot him, wasn't trying to kill him, but had something else in mind? For what purpose?"

Marguerite Hamilton stood up and turned to face the detective. "No. If you hadn't found him when you did, and the bullet hadn't been removed, he would have died. A slow, and excruciatingly painful death." She walked around the desk and took Jim's hand in her own. "When he was brought into surgery, the bullet had already began to destabilize."

"Destabilize?" Simon's voice was heavy with worry now. This did not sound like any ordinary gunshot wound.

Doctor Hamilton sighed heavily. "I don't pretend to know who shot him or why, but I can tell you whoever did it, went to a lot of trouble to cause this much damage. I don't know if they were trying to hurt Mr. Sandburg, or those he left behind, but there isn't much I can do to fix the damage that's already been done." She paused and turned back to Jim. "I can and have prevented any further damage from being done, however."

Jim sat down heavily in the chair. His mind was swirling over all this new information. He wasn't sure if he had grasped all of it yet, he was still stunned, and his brain refused to believe that Blair wouldn't fully recover.

"What exactly is the damage?" Simon asked quietly.

"He's lost some mobility. The nerves in the lower portion of his body have been completely severed. They cannot be repaired."

Jim opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words would come out. He heard Simon's voice, but it sounded distant again.

"You mean?" Simon asked, not wanting to voice what he believed the doctor was saying.

"It's unlikely Mr. Sandburg will ever walk again." The doctor nodded sadly.

"Oh god." 

*****   
Blair blinked, sure he had heard wrong. He looked into Marguerite Hamilton's face. He saw her saddened expression shining in her eyes and knew he hadn't heard wrong. Looking away from the doctor, Blair turned his gaze towards the bed, and the blanket that was draped over the lower half of his body. The dead, lower half of his body.

He tore the blanket off of the bed and threw it on the ground, and returned to the view of his legs. He stared at them fiercely, silently willing them to move. He tried to motivate the muscles in his legs, begging them for some sign. Nothing happened. Not the slightest twitch. He lifted the hospital gown up slightly and bent forward to blow on the hair on his thighs. 

He saw the hair follicles move, but felt nothing. Moving his fingers until they hovered just over his legs he hesitated, unsure if he wanted to continue. Closing his eyes, the anthropologist brought his fingers down and pinched the skin. Well, he thought he pinched the skin, but for all he knew he was checking fruit for firmness.

"Blair." The doctor's voice was quiet. 

Blair looked and met her eyes. "I'm alright." He reassured her.

She nodded at him and stepped forward. "I've made an appointment with a counselor. He'll be by to see you tomorrow."

"I won't be here." 

Dr. Hamilton stared in confusion at her patient and friend. "You won't?"

Blair shook his head. "No. If I understand you correctly, there is nothing you can do." He stared seriously at her. "Correct?"

Doctor Hamilton nodded her head sadly. "I'm sorry."

Blair smiled slightly, although it didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, Doc, it isn't your fault." He motioned for her to come closer and patted the edge of his bed.

The doctor sat down. "I hate that this happened to you."

"'Rite, how long have we known each other?" Blair asked placing a hand on her cheek.

"Twenty years." She answered.

Blair nodded, a small smile gracing his lips at some hidden memory. "Right. And in all that, time have you ever known me to give up?"

Marguerite laughed, enjoying a memory of her own. "No. But you have people, friends, and family that care about you. Leaving won't solve anything."

"Maybe, but it's best for everyone involved." Blair looked away from his old friend and frowned.

"Is it? You're friend, Detective Ellison? He doesn't strike me as someone who will just let you walk away." She paused, as she realized what she said. They were silent for a minute, neither wanting to comment on the verbal slip.

Finally Blair spoke. "Jim will adjust. He'll get another partner or not. Either way, he'll go on." The words were remarkably similar to the ones he had spoke to Gina Villarandes, but somehow this time he only hoped it were true, instead of regretting that they could be.

"Are you so sure of that?" Marguerite asked quietly.

"I hope so." He looked up into her green eyes and sighed. "I can't be his partner any more. I can't help him anymore." He dropped his voice an octave. "And I can't be a burden. Do you understand?"

Marguerite nodded and squeezed his shoulder as she stood up. "I'll get your discharge papers ready.

"Thank you." 

Blair watched his old friend leave his hospital room and began to think about what it was he was going to do, now. Not for the first time, he felt virtually alone.

****   
Gina Villarandes leaned back in her chair and smiled. She had won. She could feel it. Jim's partner was dead, and he would blame himself for it. He would either swear revenge and come after her, and then she could kill him herself. Or, his grief would control him, and he'd kill himself. Either way, Jim Ellison would get what he deserved and her cousin's plans would continue. 

She was startled from her thoughts by the telephone ringing.

"What is it?" She asked in irritation.

"We have a problem." The voice on the other end sounded nervous. Peter *never* sounded nervous.

"What?"

"The target is still alive."

"What?" Gina Villarandes shrieked. "How is that possible? No one, and I mean No one survives one of John's special bullets."

"Ellison found him before the poison worked its way through his body. The bullet was removed before it had time to dissolve."

Gina listened quietly, her anger growing with each passing second. "And the poison? Was it purged?"

"Affirmative."

"And the target? What is his condition?" She hissed.

"He was paralyzed."

Gina relaxed at that news. "Do they know what caused it?"

"Negative."

Gina smiled again. "No trace? You're certain?"

Peter hesitated for a split second before replying. He wasn't certain but he wasn't about to tell her that. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. Call Whitaker; tell him we're good to move. Ellison has been taken care of." Gina waited until she heard the click on the other end and then smiled.

Things had not gone as planned, but they had worked out for the best. Having Ellison's partner incapacitated would no doubt ensure that the detective was too busy to meddle in her plans.

And once Operation: FireStorm was activated there would be no stopping her. Nothing could be done. John's dream would reach fruition and she would have the world at her feet.

**** 

"You ready to go?" Jim asked quietly from the doorway.

Blair looked up at him and smiled sadly. "Yeah. There's nothing more for me here." Or anywhere

"Chief, we'll get through this." Jim told him as he stepped closer, bending down so that they were at eye level.

Blair sat on his hospital bed, now fully dressed, as they waited for the nurse to bring in his new wheels. He wanted to agree with Jim, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he knew it wasn't.

His life, as he had known it, was over. Sure, he was still Blair Sandburg, teaching fellow, anthropologist, and all around good guy. But he was no longer Blair Sandburg, Guide and Partner to the Sentinel. He could no longer help Jim. He could no longer be what Jim needed. *He* was no longer needed. Now, he was just a burden.

But not for long. He refused to be a dead weight that Jim was forced to live with. He refused to sit back in his new wheels and watch Jim live his life. Watch Jim grow angrier each day because he was saddled with a man that he probably would eventually wish had died in the warehouse.

He would not be a party to Jim's misery. Nor would he accept the man's pity, and that's all their could be between them now.

He felt Jim's warm fingers brush his hair away from his face and closed his eyes, memorizing the feel, knowing that this was most likely the closest he would ever get to him again.

"Chief? You still with me?"

Blair opened his eyes and looked into Jim's. He could see pain in their blue depths and cursed himself for it. Forcing a slight smile on to his face, he nodded slightly.

"Always, man."

Jim smiled back and then stood up and turned around when he heard noise outside the hospital room. The door opened and the nurse came in, bringing a wheelchair with her.

"Here we go, Mr. Sandburg." She wheeled the chair over next to the bed and held it still while Jim lifted his partner into it.

After Blair was secured in his new mode of mobilization, the nurse turned to Jim and handed him a stack of papers.

"We've scheduled his first week of physical therapy starting on Thursday. After that, you'll need to maintain a regular therapy schedule." She handed him a stack of pamphlets.

"Here's some information on equipment you may be interested in obtaining, and exercises you can do at home, without equipment as well as information of how to make the transition easier."

Blair sat in his wheelchair, which was decidedly uncomfortable, well what he could feel of it anyway, and listened as the nurse prattled on to Jim about this and that, completely ignoring him. Was this how it was going to be from now?

He'd be invisible to everyone, while Jim took on the burden of caring for him? No. He wouldn't allow it.

"We understand." Blair interrupted the nurse.

She turned to look at him, almost as if she was startled to find someone else in the room. "Okay." She handled the last of the papers to Jim and held the door open while Blair grasped the wheels and tried to figure out how best to work them.

Jim walked around and grasped the handles so he could push.

"I've got it." Blair said harshly as he moved the chair away from his partner. He rolled out of the room before any protest could be made.

Jim followed him out silently, wanting nothing more than to make all of Blair's pain go away. He knew that wasn't possible, but he could and would try.

**** 

Jim prepared Blair's tea mechanically while his senses catalogued his partner, trying to figure out what he was thinking and feeling. Anything that would give him some idea of what to say, or do to make him know how he felt. To make him understand that he meant what he said at the hospital. They would get through this together.

Blair's next words stopped him cold.

"I'm leaving."

"What?" Jim's mind tried to grasp what it was Blair was saying, if there was some other meaning than the one he feared.

"I'm leaving. In a few days. I'll make some calls tomorrow, find out where I can stay. I'll call my adviser at Rainier and postpone my presentation."

"No." Jim's soft voice interrupted him.

Blair turned the upper portion of his body around as much as he could from his seat on the couch. "Excuse me?"

Jim walked over to him and sat down on the coffee table so that they were close to eye level. "I said no."

Blair blinked. "When did I cease to have control of my own life, Jim? Did it happen when I lost the use of my legs? Did it happen when I wheeled myself out of that hospital room? Did it happen when I moved in here and allowed you to dictate to me how I lived my life? When? Just tell me when?"

Jim leaned back slightly on the table, running a hand over his face. "I'm not trying to control you."

"No?"

"No."

"Then what is this about?" Blair asked seriously.

I love you. Jim thought, but couldn't tell him that. "I need you. You're my guide."

"In case you haven't noticed, I can't walk. I can't be you're guide, or your partner, or anything else. You're better off with out me. Isn't that what you want?"

"Never." The word was so softly spoken Blair almost didn't hear it.

"Take me to my room." Blair spoke quietly, but with determination. "Please."

Jim nodded and picked Blair up and carried him into his bedroom, placing him in his own bed. After securing him as best he could, he looked into his partners eyes and spoke softly. "This isn't over." He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the door opened slightly.

Blair watched him go sadly. "Yes it is." He whispered.

**** 

  
Detective Jim Ellison sat on his couch listening to the sounds of even breathing coming from his roommate's bed, the door still cracked open slightly, making the job of listening to him easier. Easier but not less painful. 

It had been nearly three hours since he had left Blair alone in his room and heard the softly spoken declaration that their discussion was over. It wasn't over. Blair may not realize it, but he would be damned if he was just going to sit back and watch his best friend, and partner walk out of his life.

Walk out of his life.

He repeated the thought mentally and felt a pain in his heart at the realization that wasn't likely to happen, at least not literally. Blair couldn't walk. According to the doctors, he would probably never walk again.

What did that mean? What would he do? Would he still want to teach? Would he still want to be Jim's Guide? Would he really leave Jim, alone, and without a Guide?

He didn't have the answer and was afraid to ask it aloud. What if he was going to leave him? What could he do to stop him? What was he willing to do?

Was he willing to do anything that was necessary short of holding him a prisoner? Yes. Would he even go so far as holding him a prisoner? If he thought it would help, then yes. Did that make him a monster? A brute with a cave-man mentality? Maybe. Maybe not.

"I'm not changing my mind."

Jim had been so caught up in his own internal thoughts he had failed to notice the change in Blair's heart rate signaling that his partner had woken up. He stood up and made his way into the small bedroom.

"Why not?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair turned his head to that he could see his Sentinel. "Look at me. Tell me what you see." Jim stepped fully into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Blair lifted an arm to stop whatever Jim had opened his mouth to say. "Tell me what you really see, not what you want to see."

"Okay. I will." Jim looked over his roommate carefully, cataloguing his vitals with every extended sense he possessed. Satisfied he was in as good a shape as he could hope for, Jim began to speak. "I see you. My best friend, my partner, my roommate, and my guide. No accident or injury will ever change that. Ever. Who you are hasn't changed. Can't change."

Blair started to protest and Jim covered his lips with a finger. "You asked me a question, let me answer it." Seeing Blair's acknowledgement, Jim continued, "I need you."

Blair waited for Jim to continue. When it appeared he was stuck, Blair opened his mouth and unconsciously licked his lips before speaking himself. "You don't need me, Jim. You need a partner. A real partner. A real cop. Not some annoying anthropology student following you around taking notes. You should be happy about this."

Jim looked stunned. "Happy?" He stood up, his anger radiating off of him as though it were a tangible thing. "I thought you knew me better than that, chief." He turned and walked out of the bedroom before Blair could even clarify what he had been trying to say.

When he heard Jim's angry footfalls retreating up the stairs, Blair sighed. He hadn't meant for his statement to come out the way it had. He knew that Jim would never be happy about what had happened. Could never wish something like this on his worst enemy much less his closest friend.

But he had been correct in saying that Jim didn't need him. He *did* need a real partner. Someone who could watch his back. Someone who would carry a gun. Someone who didn't annoy him with useless chatter about things he didn't find the least bit interesting.

Someone who could walk.

That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? 

Blair knew that if it weren't for his now useless legs, Jim would continue to put up with everything else. But why should he have to? Why should Jim have to be saddled with someone he probably would ordinarily want to get rid of?

The anthropologist was completely aware of how he had taken over Jim's life. He had made what had been a fairly simple existence into something far more complicated. He had forced himself on the detective's life and brought him more problems. And now, he was nothing but a burden.

A burden, Blair knew, Jim would take on, unless he did something to stop him. There wasn't any choice in the matter. He didn't want to leave him. God, the very idea caused him more pain than he thought he could sustain. But for Jim, he'd do it. He had to.

Feeling exhaustion begin to overtake him, Blair closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him, while his subconscious mind tried to reconcile his feelings with what he knew he must do.

**** 

The shrill ringing of the telephone awakened Jim. It sounded way too loud to his sensitive years. He struggled to dial his hearing down while his brain was still foggy from sleep.

"Hello?" He answered on what must have been the sixth or seventh ring.

"Jim?" Simon spoke through the line. There was a weariness to his voice.

"What's wrong, Simon?"

Simon hesitated for a minute before sighing. "There was a break-in downtown. Not much was stolen, but"

"What?" Jim asked tiredly. He hadn't gotten very much sleep and wasn't in the mood for useless information.

"Ronnie Balsin was picked up. He was working with the guys who pulled the job."

"Ronnie Balsin? Are you sure, Simon? I thought he left the country." Jim stood up and began throwing some clothes on as he thought about what that could mean.

"He did. But, he's back now." Simon paused a second. "Why do you think that is?"

"Only one reason springs to mind. Brian Whitaker." Jim ran down the stairs in a rush, wanting to get moving on this new information as soon as possible. "Look, Simon, I'm gonna try and come in for a bit. I won't be able to stay long, though."

"Are you sure?" Simon asked, not sure if it was a smart idea to leave Blair alone.

"No, Simon, I'm not. But, I need to find the person responsible. It's just something I have to do."

Simon nodded his understanding, even though he knew Jim couldn't see him. "Okay. I'll see you in a little while then."

Jim heard the click of the line and disconnected his end. He stood outside of Blair's door for several seconds before knocking.

"Come in." Blair's voice reached his ears and he sighed deeply. He was almost afraid he'd find his roommate gone this morning, even though he knew that was unlikely.

"Chief, I uh" He hesitated in the doorway. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have walked out." He froze momentarily when his words wrapped themselves around his brain.

Blair smiled slightly, although his eyes showed his exhaustion. "It's okay. We were both tired. If you want, we can talk some more."

Jim smiled. "I'd like that. I need to go down to the station. Do you want to come with me?" 

Blair's face showed fear for a moment. "No. I don't think I can. Not yet. But I'll be all right. You go on."

Jim stared at him for a second, trying to see the truth in his eyes. "Are you sure? I can call Simon"

Blair shook his head swiftly. "No. Go."

"Okay." Jim stopped, not sure if he could leave him. "Do you need. Do you want" He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

Blair looked at him sadly. "Yeah, that would be good."

Jim nodded, thankful he didn't need to voice the question. He wasn't sure if he could have.

He stepped further into the room and closed the gap between himself and Blair's bed. Being careful, he lifted his roommate into his arms and placed him into the wheelchair, which was sitting not far from the foot of the bed.

He made sure he was as comfortable as possible and then pushed him out into the living room. "Are you hungry? I can"

Blair shook his head. "No, that's okay."

Jim walked around to the front of the wheelchair and kneeled, so that they were at eye-level. "I'll bring some food home. Chinese? We still need to talk."

Blair smiled slightly. "I know. Chinese sounds good."

Jim stood back up and turned towards the door. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Blair watched his roommate leave and as soon as the door was closed and clocked behind him, he maneuvered his chair around began working the wheels so he could move around the loft as freely as possible. He grabbed his organizer from where Jim had set it on the coffee table.

Once he had the in his hand and his address book opened, he began making phone calls. Knowing that in a few hours time he would have made all the arrangements necessary to begin his new life, if he could call it that, and leave Jim to get back to his own.

*** 

"Are you sure about this?" Corrina Bordeaux turned to face her passenger, hoping to find one of two things in his eyes. Either the knowledge that he did indeed know what he was doing, or at the very least that he was positive that this was the right thing to do, even if it wasn't what he wanted. 

She found neither. He looked lost, afraid. More so than she had ever seen him. Normally he was always so sure. He always knew that what he was doing was the right thing. For him. 

"Blair? Are you *sure*?" She asked him once more when she didn't get an answer.

Blair smiled slightly though he wasn't sure about anything anymore. He couldn't very well tell her that. He couldn't admit to being as confused as he felt. "I'm sure." 

Corrina crinkled her brow and stared unbelievingly at the man who had almost become her brother nearly two decades previous. "You don't seriously think that leaving is the answer?" She asked him, remembering how Naomi Sandburg's leaving her father had destroyed him and how the situations may have been different, but she had a feeling the end result would be the same. 

"Leaving never solves anything. You should know that. Better than anyone." Her voice caught on the last part and she looked away from Blair and stared up at the building, willing it to give her some sort of answer to her brother's problem, an end to his pain.

"I know." Blair's response was soft and pain-filled. "I just need some time." He turned to look up at the woman who had remained his sister even after his mother had run out on Corrina's father. "I need Jim to understand that this is what's best. He'll" Blair hesitated, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "He'll realize that I'm right. He doesn't need me. Maybe he never did."

Corrina started up the car and began backing out of the parking lot, choosing, wisely not to comment on Blair's way of thinking. She drove down the road in silence, waiting for Blair to say something, anything. But he remained quiet, unusually so.

"What happened?" Corrina asked after they had been driving for nearly ten minutes and had turned down her street.

Blair took a deep breath and stared unwaveringly at his immobile legs. "I was shot." His voice was flat, as if the statement explained everything.

Corrina, knowing that it didn't, waited patiently as she pulled into her driveway and parked the car.

Blair sighed as the silence stretched on. Corrina climbed out of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out Blair's wheelchair. "I called Sid about some new wheels." She told him as she put the breaks in place and maneuvered herself to the easiest position to help Blair from the car into the chair.

"That wasn't" Blair began but then shook his head. "Thanks."

Corrina smiled. "You know it wasn't any trouble." She pushed the chair towards the door and opened it, pushing him up the ramp and inside.

"Where is Sid?" Blair asked, hoping to divert the attention from their earlier conversation.

"Sausalito." Corrina spoke absently as she took off her coat and hung it up. "He'll be back in a couple of days." Turning back towards Blair she smiled knowingly. "I suggest you figure out what you're going to do about therapy before then. If Sid discovers you haven't made any decisions, he do it for you."

Blair laughed. It was the first real laugh since waking up in the hospital and finding out what happened. "I will, sis. I will."

"Good. Now, tell me what *really* happened." Corrina made her way out of the entryway and further into her home, seemingly not worried about Blair's ability to get around.

Blair watched her go and sighed heavily. He knew when he had called her that she was the best person he could have called. He could stay with her, without his inability to walk becoming a problem, at least not so far as maneuverability was concerned. 

Corrina's husband, Sid was a paraplegic, and her home was set up to be as wheel-chair-friendly as possible, without catering to weakness. Sid believed that a man's inability to move his legs, or walk, had nothing to do with the state of his life.

He specialized in creating exercise equipment, specifically geared towards people with disabilities, and his home was littered with it, as well as a great many number of things which enabled wheelchair-bound people to do for themselves what some people would have done for them. 

Blair knew that if he was going to get a handle on his life and prepare himself to live alone, unaided, this was the perfect place to come. However, he was also keenly aware that coming here did come with a price. And he was about to pay it.

Placing his hands along the rims of the wheels, Blair began to wheel himself around the house, and prepared himself to tell Corrina what had led him here.

**** 

"Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie." Jim walked around the interrogation room, circling the small table in which his suspect sat. "Why are you here? I thought you were smarter than this?" He stood behind Ronnie Balsin and leaned over his shoulder. "You know what I think?"

Ronnie shivered slightly. Unnoticeable to anyone but Jim. Jim smiled, although it wasn't a happy smile. More an expression that showed his pleasure at making this particular suspect squirm.

"I think you're here for Brian Whitaker." 

There was a momentary pause when all the oxygen seemed to leave the room. Jim waited, wondering if his words had caused the reaction he was hoping for while the suspect in question feared that his life was over.

"I I don't know what you're talking about." Ronnie finally breathed, resigned to his fate but attempting to put on a brave face. It was the first time he had spoken since Jim entered the room.

"Brian Whitaker, Ronnie." Jim walked around the table and stared the nervous criminal down. "He's here, and now, so are you. That concerns me. And if I'm concerned"

Ronnie lifted his head and stared at Jim hard, only wavering slightly. "Why do you care? John died. A year ago. It's over." He turned away from the cold blue eyes and made great work of smoothing out the top of the table, his handcuffs jangling slightly on the surface of the wood.

"I care because my partner was shot."

Ronnie looked up at that. His breath catching at the cold determination he saw in the detective's eyes. He looked around the room, hoping to see another cop, or some sign that he hadn't been left alone with the cop he suddenly knew had no qualms about killing him.

Jim leaned forward slightly. "You're alone, Ronnie." His smile was evil as he stepped back. "I could kill you, right here, right now, and no one would know. Technically you're not even here. The arresting officers have had some sort of problem with the paperwork. Imagine that?" Jim walked around the table once more. "Or, I could send you downtown, lock you in a prison cell where you'll spend the rest of your days in isolation." Making his way back to the front of the table he grinned again. "I seem to recall something about a fear of isolation. Didn't it have something about the time you spent locked in quarantine after being discharged from the service." Bending forward, Jim lowered his voice a notch. "Didn't Brian Whitaker have something to do with that too?"

Shrugging off the question, Jim stood up and made his way towards the door, slowly. "Or, I could call in a few favors and make sure your new neighbors are acquainted with what happened all those years ago, and then again last year."

Jim smiled slightly. "Think about that." He left the room to the sound of Ronnie Balsin's accelerated heart.

Once outside in the hall, the sentinel leaned against the wall and nearly collapsed. Simon was at his side in an instant, having been standing outside the door, and not surprised by his friend's reaction to the questioning.

"Jim? Are you all right? I can have someone else finish the questioning."

Jim stood up straighter and shook his head. "No. It's me he fears. If he knows anything, will tell us anything, it's me he'll tell it to."

Simon nodded. Why don't you go to my office? Get some coffee."

Jim glanced at his captain and then sighed. "Sounds good."

When he reached Simon's office, he found Inspector Megan Connor making coffee. She handed Jim a cup and sat down in one of the empty chairs, motioning for Jim to sit in the other.

Jim stared at her for a second before taking the cup and sitting down. He wasn't really in the mood to talk, but he had a feeling that he didn't have a whole lot of choices.

The two cops stared at each other in silence for several seconds before Jim broke it. "What?"

Connor turned away from Jim and picked up a manila file folder which was lying on Simon's desk. "Ronnie Balsin." She spoke the name as if it explained everything as she flipped through the file. "What's your connection to him, and who's Brian Whitaker?"

Jim stared at her and then the file. He could see the name 'Ronald Jerico Balsin' typed neatly on the side of the folder, and knew what it was Connor found in the folder. All the information the PD had about the suspect in the interrogation room. He also knew what she wouldn't find in that file.

"You want to know what isn't in the report?" He asked finally. Connor nodded.

Jim sighed and stood up. "Ronnie Balsin worked in covert Ops for a couple of years." He began, "We didn't get along." He smiled slightly at the understatement. "Balsin was bad."

"Bad how?" Connor asked, trying to see if she could read between the lines. Ellison was often difficult to read and this was no exception.

"In an all around kind of way. He was the type of guy you don't really want on covert ops missions. Did he job and knew his way around any weapon you could name. But, you couldn't trust him to guard your back." Jim turned back to face Connor. "Fifteen years ago, he disappeared. There was a mission, and he just vanished, abandoning his team, or so it seemed."

Jim began walking around the office as he remembered the events he was now speaking about. "He was found three days later about fifty miles from where he should have been. Supposedly he had been attacked, detained, interrogated, and then inexplicably let go."

"You didn't believe that." Connor surmised, correctly.

"No. It turned out that he had been working with some people there."

"Who?"

Jim spun around. "That's not important. What is, is that when we returned and he was interrogated, it appeared he had been subjected to some unusual elements, and was given forced quarantine."

He paused as he began to finish the story. "Brian Whitaker was an Army General who personally oversaw the quarantine, interrogation, and subsequent discharge of Balsin." Jim stopped there, and waited for the questions he was sure were to come.

"How long was he in quarantine?"

"Three years. Extended isolation. No human contact."

Connor gasped. "Three years?" She looked up at Jim, shock clearly written on her face. "Isn't that illegal?"

Jim smiled grimly. "Highly. But in Covert Ops, very little actually sees the light of day, unless you want it to."

"I see." Conner nodded and turned back to the file. "What does this have to do with the Villarandes case?"

"Ah, the infamous John Villarandes. Militia, Weapons specialist, assassin, rebel, and last, but certainly not least, madman." Jim turned his gaze to the bullpen, outside Simon's window. His fellow officers were working, on various cases, moving along as if nothing had changed, even though he was all too aware that everything had.

"When Balsin was 'released' from his quarantine, he left the country, disappeared." Jim continued, still staring out the window. "He got involved with Villarandes and his *cause*."

"Cause?" Megan looked over at the file to see if there was any mention of Ronnie Balsin's connection to John or Gina Villarandes. There wasn't.

"It's not in there." Jim spoke quietly. "John Villarandes wanted to rule the world." He laughed bitterly at the insanity of the statement. "It's true. He made his living running guns, and other volatile weapons, and dealing in mercenaries. At least that was his cover." Jim finally turned around. "He was really stockpiling weapons and recruiting people to help him in his fight to start world war three."

Connor took a deep breath, surprised that anyone would want to start a world war, especially for their own purposes.

Jim smiled sadly. "Look, Connor, Simon knows all this. Ask him. I have a prisoner to intimidate and a partner to take care of." He left the office and headed back to the interrogation room, hoping Balsin would tell him what he wanted to know. He wanted, no *needed* to get back to Blair. He had a bad feeling sitting in his gut.

Something very bad was about to happen.

***** 

Corrina sat silently digesting everything Blair had told her. And he had told her *everything*. Well, almost everything. All the important stuff, anyway. 

"Well?" Blair asked after several minutes of silence.

Corrina raised an eyebrow at the anthropologist. "You're an idiot, Blair."

Blair stared unbelievingly at his old friend. He couldn't believe the first words out of her mouth after everything he had sad were to tell him he was an idiot. "Excuse me?"

Corrina ran a hand through her hair. "You walked out on him." She told him.

Blair raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. She ignored it. "Your Detective Ellison doesn't sound like the sort of man who will just give up."

"He's not *my* anything." Blair clarified, choosing not to directly answer her comment.

"You're wrong there Blair. He's your friend, your partner, your Sentinel, and if I'm not mistaken, he's also the one person in this world you love more than any other. Don't run away from this. Don't make the same mistake" She trailed off not wanting to continue her thought.

Blair wanted to deny what she was saying. Deny that Jim was any of those things. But he couldn't. He couldn't lie, and that's exactly what it would be, is a lie. And he realized that he *was* running away. Not so unlike his mother, but this was different. He was different.

He was afraid, it's true. Afraid of what admitting his feelings would mean, both to himself and to Jim, but also what it would mean to their relationship. But more than that, he was afraid of what would happen when all his fears came to light.

What would happen when Jim realized that everything he had said was true? Jim didn't *need* Blair. He needed a true partner. He needed a true guide. Not someone who was nothing more than a burden.

"Blair." Corrina's voice broke through his dismal thoughts.

He looked across the living room at her. "What?"

Corrina took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "I hate to do this, but I have to know." She hesitated again before finally asking her question. "Did you Have you Does *she* know?" 

Blair didn't misunderstand the question. "I think Jim tried to call her, but I don't think he got through. At least he didn't mention it to me. I don't think she's coming."

Corrina breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Blair. I know she's your mother, and you love her. But I can't forgive her. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

Blair rolled his chair over to the couch where Corrina sat and placed his hand over hers. "I know, Cor, I know." He whispered.

***** 

Pete sharpened the focus on the binoculars as he peered through him at his target. Although he didn't know why he was bothering. It wasn't like the target could stop what they were planning, even if Gina had let him live. This was a waste of time and energy.

Sighing, the mercenary aimed his weapon through the window of the house, sited his target, and pulled the trigger.

The sound of glass breaking was satisfying but not nearly so much as the scream that he could barely hear from the house. Smiling to himself, Pete set the weapon down and turned his car around and headed back to his boss, pleased that he would have good news to give her.  
  
*** 

Jim Ellison pulled his truck into the parking lot and made his way into the building. His mind was swirling as he tried to figure out what it was about his interrogation that was nagging at him. There was some piece of information that he was missing.

Shaking his head from his thoughts, he made his way up the stairs as he reached his senses out, searching almost unconsciously for his guide. When he was met with silence, he sped up his jog upstairs.

The instant he entered the loft he knew he was alone. Blair was gone. His feet felt like lead as he walked closer to Blair's bedroom. He knew what he would find, or not find, but he needed to see for himself.

Empty. Blair's room was empty. Sure there were still clothes, and papers and tribal masks and other assorted Blair-items. But the man himself was gone. Jim inhaled deeply, searching for the scent of his Guide. The smell that would remind him of what he had had, what was now gone.

It was there, wafting through the air, reminding him that despite the lack of his Guide's presence, it had only been a few hours since his departure. That realization fueled him. 

He still had time. Time to find Blair. To make him understand that he didn't care if he could walk or not. He was still his friend, his Guide, his partner. He loved him, and wasn't giving up. Not now. Not ever.

Jim turned around in his living room, not entirely sure where to start. Where would Blair have gone? His first thought, first fear was that he left Cascade, but he knew that didn't happen. Blair had made no secret about his wanting to leave, nor did he seem to pack very many of his personal belongings, if the state of his room were any indication.

Both things lead him to believe he was still in the city. But where?

Jim ran back into the bedroom and looked around, searching with all of his senses, for something that might give him a clue as to where his Guide had gone. Finding nothing of any use, the detective made his way back out into the living room, sweeping the room with his eyes.

There, on the coffee table. The telephone. Something so simple, but something the anthropologist must have used. Maybe the last number dialed would help him. Picking up the phone, Jim hit 'redial'.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Just as Jim was about to abort the call, he heard a click and the sound of an answering machine picked up. A recording of a man's voice began speaking.

"Hello. You have reached the home of Corrina Bordeaux and Sid Weatherly. We're not in right now, you know what to do."

There was a beep and Jim found himself speaking into the phone, not even certain who it was he was speaking to or what connection these people had to Blair. But the man's voice seemed friendly, and he found himself unwilling to pass up a possible lead to his Guide's whereabouts.

"This is Detective Jim Ellison. I'm looking for Blair Sandburg. You can reach me at 555-4167. Any help you can give me would be appreciated. Thank you."

He hung up the phone, set it down on the dining table and just stared at it for a moment, as if he was expected an immediate call back. He knew he sounded tired on the message, but he couldn't bring himself to sound as businesslike as usual, despite his words. He was bordering on desperate.

Just as the Sentinel had turned away from the despairingly silent machine, it rang.

"Ellison."

"Jim?" Simon's voice sounded through the line even wearier than before, causing a sliver of fear to trail down his spine. 

Jim turned his body away from the direction of Blair's room and faced the living room. He froze, his blood running cold. There, pacing in front of the balcony doors was a black panther. It's movements, although graceful, seemed frantic, as if in desperation. Behind the panther, Jim could make out the still form of the wolf, lying on the ground, howling out its agony.

"It's Blair, isn't it?" He asked quietly, his voice thick with terror.

"Jim, I'm on my way over there. Don't do anything until I get there, okay?" Simon's voice was almost pleading, which in and of itself told the detective how bad the situation really was, as if the appearance of their Spirit Guides weren't enough.

"What happened?" Jim asked, barely above a whisper, unable to speak any louder.

"He was there was a shooting, Jim." A sharp intake of breath and then Simon continued. "But he's alive. He'll be alright." A deep breath. "Look Jim, I'm just pulling into the parking lot. I'll be up in a minute."

There was a click on the end of the line and Jim barely nodded his head as he felt his legs give out underneath him. 

Blair was shot. Again.

He couldn't even believe it. How could this happen? Again? It just wasn't possible. But Simon said he was alive. That he was all right. That's something, right? Jim's mind was a hazy swirl of information he couldn't process and didn't want to acknowledge.

When Simon entered the loft, he found Jim on the floor in his living room, in a daze. Not quite a zone-out, but close enough to cause concern.

"Jim? Jim?" Simon shook Jim's shoulders a bit.

Jim's eyes seemed to regain their focus for a minute before he turned to his friend. "He's alright, isn't he?"

Simon smiled slightly, relived that Jim *wasn't* zoned. It didn't know how he would have dealt with that. "Yeah, Jim. He'll be fine. Come on."

Simon pulled Jim to his feet and led him out the door, hoping that Sandburg was indeed fine. He wasn't entirely certain how Jim would handle it if that weren't the case.

**** 

"Maybe you should think about a new line of work."

Blair looked up at the nurse bandaging the hole in his shoulder. Despite the stern expression on her face, her eyes were twinkling.

"Now, Marie, what would you do if I stopped coming to visit?" He asked with as much humor as he could manage.

As luck, or the fates, would have it. Marie always seemed to be on duty in the ER when Blair was brought in for one of the many injuries he seemed to incur working with Jim. She was constantly teasing him about finding a new line of work. For which he teased right back and sited how she wouldn't know what do with herself if he stopped 'visiting'. This time was no different.

Except that this time, he wouldn't be walking out of the examination room. Blair knew it. Marie knew it. But neither commented on it. A fact Blair was eternally grateful.

Before anything further could be said the door to the examination room was opened and Jim pushed his way inside. His eyes immediately sought his partner, and made a visual check to see how hurt he was.

As far as Jim could tell, there wasn't too much damage. Blair was sitting on the bed, his lifeless legs dangling over the side. He was nude from the waist up and the nurse was putting the finishing touches on a large white bandage. The bandage nearly covered his shoulder.

Jim's eyes narrowed at the wound. He stared at it unwaveringly as his eyes peered through the gauze trying to see through it almost. He was lost in a haze of white and the weaving strands which made up the bandage.

"Jim. Jim, man, come back to me."

Blair's soft voice and the feel of a warm hand on his arm brought him back. He blinked. As his eyes regained focus, he realized he zoned. The nurse was gone and Blair was no longer sitting on the bed, but in his own chair.

"Your hurt." Jim spoke softly as he sat down heavily on the bed.

"I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound." Blair tried to smile in reassurance. 

"You left me." Jim's tone was defeated, almost as if he wasn't speaking to Blair, but to someone else about Blair.

Blair reached out a hand to touch Jim's face gently, forcing the older man to look at him. "I know. I'm sorry. I just needed some time."

"Time for what?" Jim asked, looking deeply into Blair's eyes.

"To think." Blair looked away. "I don't know, to decide. To figure out what to do next."

"You could have done that at home. We could have done it together." Jim spoke quietly, his words hard to voice, but too important not to say.

Before Blair could comment, Marie came back through the door. She looked appropriately apologetic for the interruption. "Sorry, Blair. But there's a man here. A Sid Weatherly. He wants to know about your sister."

"Oh god." Blair's whole demeanor changed. His body stiffened, and his skin lost its color. "Oh God." He whispered again.

Jim looked from his friend to the nurse. "Can you excuse us for a minute?" Marie nodded and left the room, leaving Jim and Blair alone again. He bent down so he was at eye level in front of his friend.

"Chief? Who's Sid Weatherly?" He asked calmly, quietly.

Blair looked up, the pain in his eyes heartbreaking to the Sentinel. "He's" His voice sounded raspy, even to his own ears. "He's Corrina's husband. Oh God, Jim, what am I going to tell him? How am I going to explain?" Blair started to shake uncontrollably.

Jim wrapped his arms around his friend, the man that he loved more than anyone in his life ever and rubbed soothing circles along his back. "It's okay." He wasn't entirely certain it was, especially considering he didn't know who Corrina was, or what had happened to her.

After several long minutes, Blair seemed to compose himself, and pushed Jim away slightly. "I'm okay. Sorry." He looked into Jim's ice-blue eyes and smiled slightly. "Really, man. Thanks."

Jim stood up, sensing Blair's desire for space. "Who's Corrina Bordeaux?"

Blair looked up sharply. "She's my sister sort of." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "I didn't tell you her last name."

Jim had the grace to look away. "When I came home and found you gone I I didn't know what to do. God, Blair, I couldn't just stand there and do *nothing*. Despite what you believe, you're *everything* to me."

"Everything?" Blair asked quietly, not quite believing what he thought he heard in the older man's tone.

"Yes, everything. I I love you." Jim admitted as he stared at the top of his friend's head.

Blair looked up and their eyes locked. "I love you too, man." He blinked, trying to break the spell, which had woven its way around them.

Jim, taking the hint, but not willing to completely drop the subject, decided to continue his explanation. "I checked the phones' redial."

Blair nodded. "You've reached the home of Corrina Bordeaux and Sid Weatherly" Blair grinned slightly. "I know the message well."

Jim smiled back, glad Blair wasn't angry. "Who are they?"

Blair sighed. "Corrina was like my sister. Her father and Naomi almost married about twenty years ago. Naomi couldn't handle it, and left, dragging me with her. Afterwards, Corrina and I still kept in contact. Sid is her husband."

Jim nodded his understanding and then frowned. Something that Blair had said was nagging at him.

"Jim? What is it?"

Jim bent down to face his friend again. "You said 'was'. What happened to your sister?"

Blair eyes closed in pain and Jim understood. He stood up. "Stay here. I'll go talk to Sid."

Blair was in too much pain to argue. He wanted to be the one to tell Sid what happened, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt too guilty. If it hadn't been for him, and his desire to run away from Jim and his problem, Corrina wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire.

***** 

Jim left the exam room silently, searching out his query. He spotted Marie at the nurse's station and she pointed out Sid Weatherly. He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but whatever it was, it wasn't the sight, which greeted him.

Sid was in his early forties and looked to be in good physical shape, despite the fact that he was relegated to a wheelchair. Instantly, Jim realized why it was Blair had gone to these people when he left the loft.

Aside from the personal connection, it was obvious, just from watching this man wheel around the hospital, demanding answers, that this was not a man who allowed his inability to walk bring him down. He was just the sort of man Blair could benefit from right about now.

As he neared the man in the wheelchair, he thought about what it was he was going to say, how he was going to explain. As it turned out, his concern was unfounded.

"Detective Ellison?" Sid asked as he wheeled himself closer.

Jim looked surprised, but tried to hide it. "Yes? Mr. Weatherly?"

Sid smiled even though the tense lines around his eyes didn't disappear. "Sid. Call me Sid. Blair's told me so much about you."

"Has he?" Jim asked, surprised, and oddly warmed at the fact that his friend talked about him to people he considered family.

Sid's smile widened. "Yeah. I've never seen him so happy before." He paused as he remembered everything that had happened recently, and why he was now in the hospital. "Where's Corrina?" He eyed Jim speculatively and then sighed. "It isn't good is it?"

Jim took a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry. She She died."

**** 

  
Sid Weatherly took a deep breath and nodded. Jim pushed the door open wide enough for Sid's wheelchair to roll through and then closed the door behind him. He stood there, on the other side of the door, separated from Blair by the heavy door, and countless intangible things.

He wanted desperately to follow the older man into Blair's room but he knew his partner needed to talk to him alone. Needed to assuage his guilt by trying to explain what had happened to his sister. Maybe give an answer to the ever-present 'why' question. It was Jim's knowledge and acceptance of this need, which kept the Sentinel from extending his hearing so that he could hear the conversation. If Blair wanted him to know what was said, he'd tell him. Later.

Until then he could do nothing but wait. Wait for Blair to finish talking to his friend. Wait for Blair to come home with him. Wait for Blair to talk to him. Wait for Blair to see the truth: That they were forever. Nothing would ever change that. Nothing. 

And he could and would wait forever, if necessary.

As it turned out his waiting was interrupted. By Blair's doctor. Marguerite Hamilton was walking towards him. She seemed to be nervous and she had an odd expression on her face.

He didn't know the woman that well. They had only met about three or four times before the shooting which had caused Blair paralysis, but after the first time they met, when Blair had gone to her office after being poisoned by Golden, Blair had told him about her.

Marguerite Hamilton had met Blair shortly after his tenth birthday. She had been interning in the ER when he had been brought in after he was injured in an accident with an ice cream cart.

Blair hadn't been too badly hurt, just a few scrapes and bruises but it had taken several hours for the hospital to locate his mother and so young doctor Hamilton had looked after a young, but infinitely intelligent, and quite verbal Blair Sandburg. They became fast friends, and stayed that way.

Doctor Hamilton had always seemed like a nice woman, not like many of the other doctors Jim had met. She seemed to be fairly easy going, and without the stiff, strict adherence to rules and regulations. Which probably explained their friendship throughout the years and how she had become Blair's personal physician, despite the fact that she was a surgeon with not much in the way of regular patients.

But Marguerite Hamilton had once told Jim that Blair Sandburg was a special case. And he was. Jim knew that better than anyone.

Only now, Marguerite Hamilton seemed to be on edge, if only barely. Her heartbeat was slightly elevated and her facial expression clearly showed that something was indeed bothering her.

"Jim?" Dr. Hamilton smiled slightly as she reached the room the Sentinel was guarding. "We have a slight problem."

"Problem?" Jim asked as he extended his senses outward, searching for any kind of threat to his Guide.

Marguerite placed a slight hand on his arm and smiled reassuringly. "It's nothing like that." She took a step closer to the detective. "It's Ms. Sandburg. She's here."

Jim froze for a second, letting the words seep into his brain. He wanted to ask if she was sure, but he could tell by the apologetic look on her face, that she was indeed certain. 

"Where?" Jim asked, carefully keeping his voice completely normal.

Marguerite turned her head slightly and motioned towards the front of the hospital. Jim extended his hearing in that direction and heard the unmistakable sound of Naomi Sandburg, as she demanded information from the charge nurse.

"Thanks." Jim started to move away, towards his partner's mother, when he remembered his partner and his visitor. He stopped and turned back to the doctor. "Blair is in there with Mr. Weatherly. Can you make sure they aren't disturbed?"

Marguerite smiled. "Of course, Jim. You know I will."

***** 

"Sid, I can't begin to explain, or to apologize. I don't even have the right." Blair began, averting his eyes from his brother-in-law, afraid to look up and see the anger there.

Sid Weatherly rolled his chair a little closer and clasped his hand around Blair's. "Nonsense, Blair. You know better than that."

Blair looked up and was surprised to find no anger in the older man's eyes, only concern. But the concern wasn't for himself, or his loss but for Blair.

"You don't understand. If I hadn't called her, she would still be alive."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Sid squeezed his hand again. "We don't know what would have happened. Maybe the shooter wasn't after you. Maybe it was about something completely different." He held up his other hand, to stop Blair's rebuttal. "Or maybe he was. Maybe he would have shot at you no matter where you were. Maybe you would have been alone, and then *you'd* be dead. Is that what Corrina would want?"

Blair opened his mouth as if to speak, to tell his old friend that that would be better, but that wasn't the question, so instead he shook his head. "No, she wouldn't want that."

"Okay then."

Blair looked up into Sid's eyes and felt his own watering at the pain he saw there. Despite the older man's strength, it was obvious that his wife's death hurt him deeply, and he couldn't help but feel guilty.

No matter what Sid said, or how Corrina would have felt, it was his fault. If he hadn't called her, and asked for her help, she never would have been put in the situation which got her killed.

"That's enough!" Sid exclaimed, almost as if he had heard Blair's thoughts. "This wasn't your fault."

"But, I" Blair began.

"And this" He waved his hand towards Blair's own immovable legs, "Is this your detective's fault?"

"No! Of course not!" Blair's eyes widened. The very thought of blaming Jim was unthinkable.

Sid raised an eyebrow at the strength with which Blair refused to pass blame. He was going to comment further, but decided to change topics at the last moment. "I brought you a new chair. It's in the van."

Blair looked up, momentarily confused. "A new chair? You didn't have to do that."

Sid squeezed the younger man's arm again. "I know. I wanted to. But" He removed his hand from Blair's and held it up in warning, "I expect you to call the therapist." When Blair looked about to protest, Sid continued. "Don't make me talk to that detective of yours."

Blair sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll call Mark, okay?" He paused and then looked up at his friend again. "He's not *my* detective."

Sid laughed, a hearty sound, despite the pain of the recent situation. "We'll see." He winked.

Before anymore protests could be made their attention was drawn to a commotion just outside the hospital room door. Blair groaned to himself as he heard the one voice he didn't want to here, right here, right now.

His mother's voice.

**** 

"Naomi." Jim tried to smile although he wasn't all that pleased to see her. 

Not that he didn't like her. He loved her, really he did. But, it was the first time they had seen or spoken to one another since before the mess with Alex Barnes. He wasn't entirely certain what she knew about her son's drowning, if anything. And he was positive anything she had heard about Blair's recent hospital visit would *not* put him in a good light. It was like everything she had ever warned Blair about hanging around with a cop had come true.

"Jim! Jim, is it true? Was Blair hurt?" Naomi came to a halt in front of the detective.

Jim nodded sadly as he moved Blair's mother away from the center of the hospital. "I'm afraid it is."

"How did it happen?" She asked as she sat down in a chair not far from Blair's room. "It was because of his work with you, wasn't it?" She asked quietly.

Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking directly into the eyes of his partner's mother. "Yes. I'm afraid it was. He was he was shot."

Naomi took a deep shuddering breath and closed her eyes briefly, apparently trying to gain control of her emotions. "He's okay?" She asked carefully, afraid to hear the answer but needing to know what happened.

The message she had received had only told her that Blair had been injured, but that was all. It had taken her a few days to make it back to Cascade, and she'd come to the hospital directly from the airport.

"He's well." Jim sighed. He didn't know how he was going to break the news to her, but he knew he needed to prepare her for it before she saw Blair. He needed to take responsibility for what had happened to Blair.

"He's paralyzed, Naomi." He spoke softly, his emotions clear in both his voice and his eyes. "I'm sorry. This is my fault, I know."

Naomi was frozen for a moment. She had heard the words, and she knew them to be true, just as she had feared that whatever had happened to her son this time, wouldn't be so easily remedied. But it wasn't the words that had caused her to freeze, or the implications of those words. It was the way in which they had been spoken. The pain showing in those eyes. It was Jim Ellison himself, which had shocked her so deeply. And suddenly she knew.

She knew all there was to know.

Naomi took another deep breath, this one more to cleanse than to control her emotions, although suddenly she felt like crying. For what her son had found, not what he had lost.

"Does he know?" She asked quietly taking one of Jim's large hands in her own.

Jim frowned in confusion. "Does he know? That he can't walk? Of course."

Naomi shook her head, a slight smile gracing her lips. "No, silly. Does he know that you're in love with him?"

Jim opened his mouth and then closed it again, only to open and close it once more, at a loss for what to say.

"I thought not." Naomi smiled indulgently as she stood up. "I'd like to see him now."

Jim stood up silently, still at a loss for what to say. They walked down the hall, with Naomi talking the entire time, about things she had seen and done since her last trip to Cascade.

Jim wasn't certain, but he thought Naomi was trying to draw attention away from him and his sudden inability to speak. He was grateful for that, and in a strange sort of shock. Naomi's reaction to the news hadn't been anything like what he had been expecting.

***** 

Blair tried to move himself around slightly, preparing himself for his mother's entrance. He knew things would be a little awkward. On one hand he was tremendously glad that she had come. But on the other hand he didn't think he could deal with her blaming Jim for anything that had happened. And he wasn't entirely certain how things would go between Sid and his mother.

He turned towards the older man and tried to smile. "Brace yourself."

Sid rolled around to face the door, and amused smile on his face at the tone of Blair's voice.

The door opened and Jim Ellison walked in, looking apologetic as he stepped aside. Naomi Sandburg walked into the room, allowing the door to swish shut behind her.

Naomi looked at Blair, a large smile on her face. "Blair!" She rushed forward and hugged him tightly.

"Mom! I'm fine, really." He said nervously, looking from Jim to Sid over his mother's shoulder.

Naomi stood back and examined him closely. He looked a little tired, and tense, but otherwise, okay. Having confirmed that her son was in fact, healthy, she turned her attention to the other occupants of the room.

Her eyes locked on Sid Weatherly. Her face lost its smile as she took in a deep breath. "Mr. Weatherly." She spoke, her voice tight.

"Naomi." Sid's voice had lost its humor and his eyes had grown cold.

Jim and Blair shared a look across the room as Blair spoke, sentinel-soft. "Oh boy."

***** 

"So, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Jim Ellison asked quietly as he held the elevator doors open while his best friend and partner maneuvered his wheelchair out of the lift and into the hallway, which led to their loft.

Blair shook his head as he rested his arms against the padding of the arms of his new chair. "Not really, but I suppose its inevitable."

Jim was silent for a minute while he unlocked the door and held it open. His mind was divided. Part of it was on the major disaster that had barely been diverted at the hospital. Another part was thinking about how concerned he had been that Blair *wouldn't* come home with him, and how it wouldn't be a *home* without him. Still another part was thinking about the recent changes in their lives and if perhaps they shouldn't be changing with them.

It hadn't escaped his attention that getting into and out of their building could prove to be near impossible if the elevator should go on the fritz as it often did. Not to mention Blair's inability to make his way into Jim's bedroom in his present state. Of course, Blair rarely went into Jim's bedroom anyway, but that was something Jim seriously wanted to change.

Consequently, he was thinking about the viability for maybe making a change of scenery.

"You're just gonna let that drop?" Blair asked incredulously, bringing Jim out of his internal thoughts.

"What?" Jim asked, confused. He had momentarily forgotten what they were discussing.

"Jim, man, you alright?" Blair wheeled just a bit closer to Jim, and for a minute the look on his face was reminiscent of so many other times. But then reality seemed to snap back into focus.

"Yeah, fine. I was just thinking." Jim answered after locking up the loft and sitting heavily on the couch.

Blair made his way over to the couch and maneuvered himself as close to Jim as he could, without asking Jim to help him onto the couch. He knew that in time, with his therapy, he'd be able to lift himself in and out of his chair. But that time was a long way off, and he wasn't really all that keen on appearing weak in front of his roommate.

Despite everything Jim had tried to tell him since the *shooting* Blair wasn't positive Jim's desire to keep him around didn't stem from guilt and pity. And those were two reasons he didn't want to keep him here, in Jim's loft.

"So, you want to know about Sid and Corrina?" Blair asked quietly. At Jim's nod, he began.

"Corrina's father, Marcus, was one of Naomi's boyfriends. The *One*. They were only together for a few months, the longest of anyone, before or since."

"What happened?" Jim asked curiously when Blair seemed to be lost in his own memories.

Blair shrugged. "Cold feet, wanderlust, just plain old fashioned insanity. Pick one." He sighed deeply as he remembered that time. "She packed me off and we left. She didn't even say goodbye to him. I know it hurt her too much, and that's why. But"

"But you wish she would have stayed." Jim surmised.

Blair nodded. "Stayed, or at least talked to Marcus. He took it really hard." Blair looked into Jim's eyes. "He killed himself. Couldn't handle her leaving. He believed she really hadn't cared. But, God, Jim. She had. So much. She was never really the same after that. She never allowed herself to get close again.

"Corrina always blamed Naomi for her fathers death. In the beginning I think it was just easier to think that Naomi just didn't care. But as we got older, and she began to live her own life, away from the haunting memory of finding her father's body and away from 'could have beens', she began to see that it wasn't that Naomi didn't care, but that she cared *too* much. That just made it worse."

"Worse? How?" Him asked, perplexed, trying to understand this other side of Blair. This family that he'd never known about. This past he'd never bothered to ask about.

Blair sighed heavily and began to run is hands over the wheels in his chair, stifling the urge to move away from his friend. "Corrina thinks thought Naomi was a coward. That she chose to run instead of facing her fears."

"What do you think?"

"I I think she was right. Well, she was twenty years ago. Back then, Naomi wasn't ready." Blair looked up at Jim, his eyes pleading for the older man to understand. "You've got to understand how things were. We were constantly moving, constantly running. We could never stay anywhere for very long. For fear"

"For fear of what?" Jim asked, feeling a lump in his throat of what Blair wasn't saying.

"It doesn't matter." Blair waved his hand. "Naomi wasn't ready then for a life with Marcus, and by the time she was, it was too late. Corrina never forgave her for what happened. Naomi never blamed her for how she felt. Blaming me, now *that's* something else altogether."

"You? What do you have to do with it?" Jim asked, deciding to set aside his other concerns, for now.

Blair nodded his head as he finally began to move his chair away from the couch. "Naomi didn't know till last year that I still had any contact with Corrina."

"Last year? What happened last year?" Jim felt the knot in his stomach tightening.

Blair wheeled himself over to the glass windows. "You remember what happened last year." He spoke softly. "I I died."

"I brought you back." Jim gulped, the pain that memory brought back like a living thing, inside his chest.

"I know." Blair whispered, sentinel-soft.

I'm not ready to make that trip with you. Blair's subconscious mind kept playing that over and over again, till he could almost feel the pain the words brought as if he had heard them for the first time.

"What" Jim's throat felt thick with emotion. "What does this have to do with Naomi, or Corrina?"

"When I was in the hospital, Marguerite called Sid and Corrina, knowing they were the closest thing I had to family, and knowing I didn't really have anywhere else to go."

Jim's heart nearly stopped at the implications.

"Corrina called Naomi." Blair continued, oblivious to how his words were effecting his Sentinel. "I don't know how she found her, but she called her. I don't know exactly what was said, but when I went back to the university, after we came back from Sierra Verde, there was a letter from Naomi.

"She was angry that I'd lied to her all these years about my relationship with Corrina. She was angry that I had hidden it from her. She was angry that I didn't tell her about what happened at the fountain. God, Jim, I've never seen her so upset. It didn't matter that it was just a letter. I could almost *feel* the bad vibes coming off of the paper.

"After that I didn't see or hear from her, until a couple of weeks before the accident." He motioned towards his own legs before continuing. "But Sid told me that Naomi had come to see them. Again, I don't know what was said, but it wasn't pretty."

"So that's it?" Jim asked unsteadily.

"As far as my family is concerned, yes."

"But?" Jim was getting increasingly nervous.

"We need to talk, Jim."

Famous last words, Jim thought. But as much as he really didn't want to have this conversation, he knew it was important.

"Okay." He stood up and made his way over to the balcony doors. After he opened them and stepped outside he turned to face his partner and bent down so that they were at eye level. He took a deep breath before speaking. "I can't let you go. Not last year, not now, not ever."

"Why?" Blair asked quietly, solemnly. "Do you even know why?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, I do." He paused, gauging how much he should tell Blair, and realized it was time. All or nothing, and he couldn't survive nothing.

"I love you. More than life, more than death. I need you. More than air, more than water. I want you. More than anything before. More than anything that could ever be. You are everything. My world exists solely because you are in it."

Jim gazed lovingly into Blair's eyes, waiting for his love to respond.

Blair took a deep shuddering breath. "Wow." He knew it was inadequate, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"This" He waved his hands around, indicating his present mode of transportation, "Doesn't bother you?"

"No." 

The simple one word answer coupled with the look of complete love in Jim's warm, blue eyes told Blair more than a thousand well-rehearsed words could have.

"I love you too."

**** 

  
"Are you telling me you failed?" Gina Villarandes hissed, stepping closer to Peter, making the nervous man back up a couple of inches.

"I I I shot *someone*." He tried to placate.

"Yes!" Gina snarled. "You shot *someone*! But you shot the wrong someone!"

"But they're dead, aren't they?" He asked plaintively.

Gina walked away and began pacing angrily around the room. "Yes, thanks to your incompetent blundering, they are dead. But, Blair Sandburg is still alive!"

"I'll fix it. I swear!" Peter begged as he saw the weapon Gina was leveling towards him.

Gina sighed. "No. It's too late for that now. You're a risk." She pulled the trigger and watched as the body slid to the floor, blood oozing all over the cement floor. She turned towards the man standing in the doorway, awaiting instructions.

"Get rid of this mess."

The man obeyed hastily, leaving Gina alone in the room once again after several minutes.

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." She spoke softly as she looked at a newspaper clipping of Detective James Ellison and his civilian partner, Blair Sandburg.

"Soon, gentlemen, soon."

***** 

Brian Whitaker paced nervously around his office, occasionally looking out the window in the high-rise building.

"This is all *your* fault." He accused the woman standing in the middle of the room, as though she didn't have a care in the world.

"How do you figure, Mr. Whitaker?" Gina Villarandes asked calmly. "If I recall our original arrangements, you were supposed to take care of the Ellison problem."

Brian nodded. "Yes, but your cousin got it into his thick head to make it personal. *He* screwed up, not me. And now NOW, you've crippled his partner, and murdered some sort of family friend. Now, you've made it personal for *him*!"

Gina waved her hand. "That's not my concern." She picked up a file sitting on Brian's desk. "In three days, my people take over the government here," She pointed to a small map in the middle of the desk. Forty-eight hours after that, I start destroying cities." She set the file down and stepped closer to Brian. "It is your responsibility to make sure that no one, and I mean, NO ONE outside of the border finds out before the first explosion hits."

Brian nodded his understanding. "Don't worry. I know my job." He hesitated a second, afraid of angering the volatile woman further. "And Jim Ellison? What of him?"

Gina grinned evilly. "Don't you worry about him. By midnight tonight, there won't be enough left to fill an ashtray."

***** 

Brian Whitaker paced nervously in the small room. He stopped every once in awhile to stare into the mirror there. He knew that there was probably some cop on the other side staring at him, getting a laugh out of his misfortune.

He really didn't want to be here, but he was getting nervous. His last meeting with Gina Villarandes only served to affirm what he already believed to be true. She was insane. Now, his only hope of getting out of this mess was to get the help of one Cascade Cop of the Year.

Now, if only Jim Ellison would listen.

***** 

"What do you think?" Detective Rafe asked his captain as the watched the nervous man pace.

"Call Ellison. Get him and Sandburg in here."

"You sure you want to bring Hairboy in?" Rafe asked warily.

Simon glared. "Yes. Whatever's going on has Gina Villarandes all over it. I want this case closed and fast!"

"Yes sir." Rafe left Captain Banks alone, his eyes boring through the two-way mirror.

**** 

Blair awoke the odd sensation of not being alone. He felt the warmth of another's body heat molded closely to his. He felt surrounded by that warmth. He felt protected. And loved. He felt that too.

In fact, it was that feeling which alerted his brain to where exactly he was, and what it was he was feeling. He looked up, to the ceiling, as if searching for proof. And there he found it.

Skylights.

Jim's skylights.

It was weird to be lying here, in Jim's bed, staring at Jim's skylights, and surrounded by Jim.

Beyond weird, it was *right*.

However, he still felt claustrophobic. Trapped.

But it wasn't by Jim, or even the way his body blanketed him, Jim's legs woven in between his own immovable ones. Although that was part of it.

The realization that he couldn't move. He was frozen to this spot and there was nothing he could do to change that. He wasn't afraid, not really. Not of Jim. He knew that Jim would move. Jim would help him move. Jim would do whatever he needed for him to do. That was never in question.

So, then, what was the problem?

He wasn't entirely certain. Part of his brain was just angry that he *needed* that help. Part of his brain was infinitely pleased that he *had* that help. Another part was just happy that he was where he was.

He was confused. Completely, totally, utterly.

"I think we should move." Jim's quiet voice broke through Blair's troubled thoughts.

It took Blair several minutes before he could assimilate what it was Jim had said.

"What?"

"I said," Jim kissed the fingers on the hand that was clasped tightly in one of his own, "I think we should move."

"Why?" Blair asked, dumbfounded.

Jim turned his head so that he could look at his love, raising an eyebrow.

Blair smiled, even though he was still confused as to where exactly this was leading. "Okay, I can see how living on the third floor of a building with a history of non-working elevators could be a problem." He acquiesced.

"So then, it's settled."

"No, its not." Blair spoke firmly as he tried to wriggle his body free. The lower portion a dead weight he felt he was dragging around. Jim untangled himself and helped Blair sit up.

"I don't understand." Now Jim was confused. They had just agreed, hadn't they?

"Jim, I don't want you to have to move." He held up a hand to still the protest. "I don't want to move. This is our home. My first real home in ever." 

Jim sighed as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. "It's just a place, Blair. Home is wherever you are."

He stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed and bent down to pick his love up and carry him downstairs.

Blair said nothing more but continued to think about what Jim said. His mind was a jumble of thoughts as Jim set him down on the toilet and began to fill the tub. A part of him enjoyed the care Jim was taking, but another part, wanted to be able to do these things himself.

Vowing to call that physical therapist the first chance he got, Blair let his mind drift and flow around his jumbled thoughts, hoping to make some sort of sense. Soon, he felt a splash of warm water on his upper back. He looked down and saw Jim had lowered him into the warm water and after the initial panicked realization that he couldn't feel the water on his legs, he relaxed into it as Jim washed him, thoroughly, tenderly.

He wasn't quite ready to discuss anything yet. Not what he had told Jim the previous night, not the fact they had slept in the same bed, not Jim's wanting to move. He wasn't ready for any of it, so instead he let his mind drift.

It was drifting just fine, while his body enjoyed the sensations of being bathed. Well, what parts of his body could actually *feel* it. He felt safe, and comforted, and utterly unalone. It was an unaccustomed, but pleasant feeling.

When his bath was over, Jim dried him off and helped him into some clean clothes before depositing him into his new chair. The one Sid had brought him. It was much more comfortable that the one he had originally left the hospital with, and found that it was a little bit smaller than the average size, build for maneuverability and comfort both, without taking away from function. He liked it, and was touched by the thoughts Sid must have put into selecting it.

Thinking about the new chair brought his thoughts back to his brother-in-law, but before he could dwell on his sister's death too much, the telephone rang, it's shrill ringing interrupting the quiet serenity of the morning.

After several minutes of quiet conversation, Jim hung up the phone and Blair could tell by the twitching in the Sentinel's jaw that whoever was on the phone didn't have good news.

Ah, another day in the life of Blair Sandburg and James Ellison. Sentinel and Guide.

**** 

Blair held on tightly to the railing inside the elevator as it made its slow descent down the three floors. Elevators still made him kind of nervous, ever since the near tragedy in Wilkins Towers. Especially this elevator, since it only worked when it was in the mood.

More often than not the anthropologist had taken to using the stairs, but that was no longer an option. Maybe Jim's idea of moving was something he should give serious thought to. The problem was that he hated the idea of leaving his first real home. The first place he had felt safe and loved and comforted.

And more than that he hated the idea that Jim would be giving up the loft. Jim loved it there. It allowed the Sentinel to keep watch over his city, no matter what else was going on. It had also been Jim's home for almost the entire time since his return from Peru.

Despite the tragedies, failed marriage and multitude of other bad things, the loft was still home, for them both, and Blair was reluctant to leave it, regardless of convenience.

"Hey, Chief, you okay?" Jim asked quietly, noticing Blair's silence. He had been subdued ever since he had been told about their needing to go down to the station, and why.

Blair looked up, reminded that he wasn't alone. "Yeah, big guy, I'm fine." He smiled slightly.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, and then closed again before either man had time to notice, trapping them inside.

**** 

The first explosion hit the third floor, apartment 307, setting off a string of other, smaller explosions, each one causing their own damage, like the effects of falling dominos.

***** 

  
The earth moved. Literally. This wasn't some sort of cliché. The entire building was coming down around them, and Blair knew with utter certainty that this very well could be the end.

He heard a groan and judging from its proximity, it was coming from somewhere on top of him. Although he couldn't quite be certain. His vision was clouded by dust and he wasn't entirely sure he was upright.

Another groan. This one, pain filled.

"You know," Blair began, somewhat weakly, trying to move his upper body in the direction of what he thought was up. "I'm never stepping inside another elevator. Ever."

Blair heard a slight movement from above him and tried to focus his sight. Jim was lying about three inches from him, his face contorted in pain, and his eyes glazed.

"Dial it down." Blair reminded softly.

After a moment, Jim seemed to have the pain under control and he tried to move around. It was then that Blair realized why Jim was so close to him. Apparently, in the aftermath of one of the explosions, Blair was thrown from his wheelchair, into one corner of the room. Jim somehow ended up in a heap on top of him.

But because of the paralysis, the Guide couldn't actually feel the pressure of his partner's weight. He found it kind off odd that although he was watching Jim move his body around, shifting his weight off of Blair, he couldn't actually feel any difference. It was rather disconcerting.

"Are you alright?" Jim asked as he tried to stand.

Blair nodded, his throat scratchy as the dust swirled around them. "What happened."

Jim's eyes lost their focus a little as he opened up his hearing. He narrowed in on the sounds surrounding them. There was a deathly silence filling the air. Jim could make out the shifting of gravel and stone and rock and plaster as what was left of their building settled.

In the distance, Jim could hear the sound of sirens and the whispers from people on the street stopping to see the ruin. There was a breeze from somewhere overhead, alerting the sentinel to the hole on the roof. The heavy steel beams, which constructed the elevator, had kept them relatively safe when the building came crashing down.

Still, Jim wanted to get himself, and Blair as far away from the wreckage as possible.

"It was her, wasn't it?" Blair's voice was quiet.

"Yeah." Jim agreed.

"Why? I don't get it. Why does she hate us so much? Wasn't killing Corrina enough? Paralyzing me? She had to blow our building up too? How many people died? Because of me? Because of us?"

Jim took a step forward and pulled Blair into his arms, being careful of the body that was even now bruising from the impact along the floor.

"Listen to me, Chief, Gina Villarandes is crazy. She was crazy last year when she and her cousin started running guns out of Cascade. She was crazy when she hatched that asinine plan to overthrow some poor little government in the middle of nowhere."

A resounding crash interrupted Jim's assessment of Gina Villarandes sanity. It didn't matter. Blair knew he was correct. 

For whatever reason, Gina Villarandes had chosen to avenge her cousin's death by using Blair. And he couldn't blame anyone but her. It wasn't Blair's fault he seemed to be caught in the middle of this well orchestrated nightmare. Nor could he blame Jim. Not that Blaming Jim had ever crossed his mind.

Their lives would be forever intertwined and despite the inherent danger in living that way, it wasn't something he ever wanted to change. His sister's death reminded him that he had chosen this life, not for his dissertation, but because this is what was meant to be. And whether Jim said so or not, he was just as committed to their life, changes and all.

"Chief? Chief? Are you still with me?" Jim's insistent, and slightly alarmed voice broke through Blair's thoughts.

"Yeah, Big Guy, I'm here. Where else would I be?" 

Jim, wisely, chose not to comment on the sarcastic tone of voice coming out of his normally cheerful partner. The last few days had no doubt run the younger man through an emotional ringer, not to mention the physical blows he had taken.

"I'm sorry, Jim." Blair apologized with a sigh and he tried to pull himself up with his arms.

Jim pulled Blair up, without comment, and sat him up against one of the stable steel beams, which formed the elevator.

"Simon's got people out there, trying to dig us out." The Sentinel told Blair as he leaned himself against a beam, so that he was facing his friend.

"Tell me about Brian Whitaker." Blair stared intently at his friend, who was now at eye-level.

"What?" Jim looked confused for a moment and then shrugged. "Not much to tell. 

Blair raised an eyebrow, clearly stating he didn't believe that. 

Jim sighed. "He was there. That day. That day that the warehouse blew, taking John Villarandes and his secrets with him."

Blair gasped almost inaudibly. This was the first he'd heard of this little piece of information. "Are you certain?"

Jim nodded and leaned forward a bit, preparing to tell the full truth of that horrible day for the first time. "I told you to wait in the truck and went inside. John Villarandes and Brian Whitaker were talking. I only understood bits and pieces of it. They were arguing. Something about a betrayal and stolen weapons. Whitaker was nervous sweating, pleading, for something." Jim looked up into the blue eyes of his soul. That's when everything gets muddled. I caught a whiff of something. Some foreign smell. Not like body heat or gasoline, or gun oil. It was odd. I focussed in on it, trying to identify it. It was this sweet smell. Almost sickeningly sweet. I dialed up smell just a bit more, and that's when I must have zoned, because the next thing I remembered was a flash of orange and the heat of the explosion.

"When I looked around, I discovered we were away from the warehouse. You were shaking so bad, your heart beating so quickly, I couldn't sense anything else."

"I waited in the truck all of about three minutes. Then I had this sudden urge to run after you." Blair began filling in the blanks. "When I reached you, you were zoned, and suddenly I *knew* I had to get you out of there, away from the building. I dragged you away. A few minutes later, the first explosion hit."

Blair reached out a hand and squeezed Jim's arm, as the memories of that day and the fear they brought flooded his mind. "That was the day I realized I loved you." He spoke the words out loud for the first time, leaving no mistake about their meaning. "I knew I almost lost you, and I wasn't even sure how or why."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Jim asked quietly as he pulled the younger man towards him, blocking out the sounds of the rescue team and focusing on Blair.

Blair sighed. "There wasn't any point. It was one sided. I guess I figured maybe some day I'd tell you, but" He hesitated a second. "Then this happened," He motioned towards his paralyzed limbs. "And then it would have just been about pity, and I didn't want that. I could never live like that." He looked up at Jim, his eyes misting over. "But I realized, that I was wrong."

Jim tightened his grip on Blair's body as he bent forward and placed a tender, almost chaste kiss on those loveable lips. "Yeah you were." He breathed.

Before anything else could be said, the loud clang of moving steel was heard and a couple of rescue workers in hard hats appeared.

"You folks okay in here?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah." He stood up, bringing Blair up with him, holding him in strong arms, as he let the men guide them out of the wreckage.

**** 

It was nearly seven hours later that found Blair Sandburg on the ground floor of the Cascade Police Department. He was rather hesitant to get into the elevator, but taking the stairs wasn't really an option.

Maybe he should just sit there, and wait on the ground floor for Jim. Surely his meeting with Simon couldn't take *that* long. He sat staring at the elevator doors, trying to get enough courage to brave the evil contraption.

"Blair?" 

Blair twisted his head around. He smiled when he saw the familiar face.

"Brenda." He rolled over to the homicide detective. She had worked a couple of cases with Jim in the past and was one of the people outside of Major Crimes that he didn't feel he had to explain himself to.

"What are you doing here? I would think you'd be upstairs with that hunk of yours." She grinned at him.

Blair blushed slightly. Brenda had made it a habit to tease him unmercifully about the sparks she claimed she saw between Jim and himself. It never really bothered him before. There was no basis in fact to her so-called observations. But now now it seemed maybe she wasn't as far off the mark as he had originally thought.

Brenda took pity on her friend. "Hey I'm going to go question Whitaker. Care to tag along?"

Blair's eyes shot up. "Whitaker? As in Brian Whitaker?"

Brenda nodded, not understanding the significance of the name. 

"What's he doing here?" Blair asked, confused. If Whitaker was here why was Brenda going to question him, instead of Jim?

"Well, he was brought in for questioning this morning. It looks like he may have been involved in the death of one of his chemists."

At the word 'chemists', it all started to slip into place. Brian Whitaker was a Pharmaceutical tycoon. He had been suspected in many cases of the creation and trafficking of both legal and illegal drugs.

With sudden clarity, Blair realized that Whitaker was most likely responsible for the poison, which has aided in his paralysis.

"Blair? Are you alright?" Brenda was growing concerned at the continued silence.

Blair nodded. "You say he was brought in this morning? Why are you only questioning him now?"

Brenda sighed as she began pushing Blair's chair in the direction of the interrogation rooms. "Well, as soon as he gets down here, he starts pacing around, screaming about how he'll only talk to Ellison. We called Banks. I'm not really sure what happened after that. My captain was told you guys get first crack at him, but since there seemed to be a delay, I thought I'd see what I could get out of him, before the old Ellison charm wins him over."

Blair smirked at the description of Jim's 'technique'.

"So, you want to watch?" She asked, bending over so her face was inches from his own.

"Oh, I'll do better than that." Blair answered, an idea sparking in his head.

**** 

"So, what have we got?" Simon asked as he closed his office door behind Connor and Jim. 

"The explosives were a Villarandes special. There's no doubt Gina was behind this." Jim rubbed his eyes wearily, wondering when this nightmare was going to end.

"So, what? She's given up playing her little game, and decide to just take you out?" Simon asked shaking his head. "That doesn't make sense."

"She doesn't make sense." Jim growled. "She's completely unglued."

"And what about Brian Whitaker? How does he fit into all this?"

Jim tossed a file onto the desk. "According to the hospital's tests, the bullet that they pulled out of Sandburg it was coated in some sort of toxin. It wasn't like anything they'd ever seen before."

Simon picked up the file and looked through it. "So you think it was a Whitaker creation? Why?"

Jim shrugged. "Who knows. He's somehow connected to the Villarandes'. Balsin told me that Whitaker was working on some biological weapons for their little war."

"What a minute." Connor interrupted. She looked from Jim to Simon and back again. "I thought you told me Whitaker was a General in your Army."

Jim sighed. "He was. But before he was a general, he was a doctor. His father ran a pharmaceutical company and when he retired he took it over."

Simon picked up another file sitting on his desk and handed it to Connor. "He's been suspected in a dozen different narcotics cases."

Connor looked the file over and frowned. This guy was a piece of work. If he was responsible for the poison on the bullet that hit Sandy, she wanted him behind bars.

"So, where is he now?" She asked after a few minutes.

Simon smiled broadly. "Here."

"What?"

"What?"

Simon nodded at the surprised looks on his officer's faces. "Yep. It seems he was suspected in the death of a chemist who worked for him. Homicide brought him in this morning." Simon took out one of his cigars and relished the expression on Ellison's face. 

"I told Homicide we get first crack at him, so he's just been cooling his heels on the first floor." The captain chuckled.

Jim smiled despite himself. Then the words seemed to spark something and he frowned. "Did you say the first floor?"

"Yeah, why?" Simon asked.

"Sandburg's down there." He hissed and stormed out of the office.

Simon turned to Megan. "You don't think?"

"With Sandy, you never know." Megan got up and followed Ellison, with Simon only a couple of strides behind her.

**** 

"Unless you're detective Ellison, you're wasting my time." Brian Whitaker spoke as the door opened and someone entered. He didn't even look to see who it was. It really didn't matter.

"Then it's my time to waste." The voice was quiet, but there was a deadly edge to it. "And I seem to have a lot of time these days."

Whitaker turned around to face the newcomer and was surprised to find someone who obviously wasn't a cop. He was staring at a man, seemingly in his early thirties, wheelchair bound. But that wasn't what surprised him the most.

The man himself, seemed so entirely out of place in the interrogation room of a police station, yet completely at home, as if he *lived* at the station. As if he knew ever nook and cranny, and had ever right to be right where he was.

"You're not a cop." Whitaker spoke finally.

The man smiled, but it wasn't really a friendly smile. "No, I'm not."

"Who are you?" Whitaker asked, suddenly very nervous.

"Blair Sandburg." Blair wheeled slightly closer, causing Whitaker to back up. "And I believe I have you to thank for this brand spanking new mode of transportation."

Whitaker stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment and then his eyes went wide in dawning understanding. "You're him. Ellison's partner."

"So I am." Blair commented conversationally.

Brian Whitaker's eyes seemed to be taking in the sight before him. Blair staring at him through the tendrils of curly hair which had fallen into his eyes. Blair's arms gripping the wheels tightly, preparing to move if necessary. Blair's legs resting on the footrest, in a way that didn't look like they were just *hanging* there. But they were. And at second glance, Brian Whitaker could see that they were.

Still, he was surprised. Surprised that he hadn't died. The poison bullet was something of an achievement for him. Something he was kind of proud of. Quick, and deadly. And yet this man, this small, seemingly harmless man had survived. True he obviously wasn't in the same condition as before but he had survived.

And before he knew it, his mouth was open and speaking words he knew he shouldn't.

"You're alive."

Blair nodded. "I am. Surprising, isn't it?" He moved his chair forward ever so slightly. "That bullet was your little creation wasn't it?" His voice had grown soft, and anyone who knew him personally would no that the lack of enthusiasm in his movements and voice, would know that something was wrong. But Brian Whitaker didn't know Blair Sandburg, so he didn't know to be wary.

Blair rolled back suddenly, quietly. "You know, I came down here to get some answers from you. To find out what it is you thought you were doing exactly. I mean" He paused and gave Whitaker a long searching look, "Gina Villarandes is nuts. Trust me, I know."

Blair held his face steady as he grinned internally at the small gasp that broke through the older man's lips at the mention of Gina Villarandes.

"Does she know you're here? Cause, if not, I'm sure she'd like to. I can call her, for you. As a courtesy, of course."

"Of course." Whitaker barely managed to whisper. He began to panic as Blair wheeled his chair towards the door. It appeared he was going to leave. And he just couldn't allow that. Because he knew, with utter certainty that this man, would indeed call Gina. And it didn't matter that Gina had tried to kill this man, several times. And it didn't matter that technically the police had brought him in, on something that had nothing to do with her plans or her 'cause'. None of that mattered, because all she would see was a threat. And she would kill him, and probably a lot of other people. Because she was *that* crazy.

"Wait." Brian stepped forward, hating the pleading tone of his own voice. "What do you want?"

Blair stopped moving and swiveled around to face the man. He was shaking inside, and trying so *very* hard not to let it show.

"What do I want?" He asked, quietly, almost ominously as he pretended to think about it. "I want to know what it is you did to me." He swirled around in a circle and then turned to face Whitaker once more. "I want to know where that bitch is." His words were deadly quiet, his voice oddly calm. "I want to know what was so DAMNED important that you felt it necessary to blow up an entire building." 

Whitaker scrambled for a defense. "I I had nothing to do with that!"

Blair moved closer, continuing as if the man hadn't spoken. "Thirteen people died in that explosion. Thirteen people. Did you know that? Do you even care?" He hissed.

Whitaker stood there, staring, for minutes, not knowing what to say, not knowing what she should say, but *knowing* he had to say something.

"I'm sorry." He offered, knowing that his apology didn't mean anything, and he wasn't even sure why he was saying it.

"You're sorry?" Blair shook his head, deciding that he wasn't even going to bother with this man. He had come in here for only one reason. "Where is she?" He asked again.

Brian Whitaker gulped. "167 Feslea Boulevard. Third floor."

Blair moved towards the door and banged on it, alerting Brenda, who was waiting outside to his desire to leave.

Just as the door was opened, Whitaker spoke again. "It's too late for you, you know. That bullet should have killed you. There's no going back. You're lucky you survived."

Blair heard the outer door open and he just *knew* Jim was on his way down the hall. He turned slightly to face Whitaker. "No, you're lucky I survived." There was a loud clang as a nearby door was slammed. "I think you're luck has just run out."

Blair wheeled out of the room just as Jim entered the hallway, a look of complete and utter irritation on his face. Simon Banks and Megan Connor followed him.

"Blair!" Jim looked from his partner's face to the two-way mirror outside of the interrogation room. "Brian Whitaker?" He asked unnecessarily.

Blair nodded. "I got an address."

Jim raised in eyebrow in surprise. He turned towards Detective Brenda Marliot who was standing outside the room. "Keep him on ice. I'll be back."

Brenda grinned. "Don't worry. He isn't going anywhere, for a long, long time."

Confident in the truth of that statement, the four members of Major Crimes left the hallway, eager to follow up the new lead.

**** 

"No!" Blair Sandburg hissed at his partner through clenched teeth.

They were stopped at a red light and he desperately, desperately wanted to open the passenger side door and jump out, and run, before Jim Ellison even knew what the hell had happened.

However, being that his legs didn't work *quite* as well as they used to, that wasn't likely to happen. He sighed. It was just as well. He knew Jim was right. He *hated* that Jim was right.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll come and pick you up, and we'll go out to celebrate." Jim offered, hoping that the raid to take down Gina Villarandes was as easy as he thought it was going to be.

Blair turned his head away from the window to look at Jim. He wanted to snap at him, but, again, he realized his partner was right. "Okay. But call me as soon as you can."

Jim smiled slightly and nodded as the light turned green. They drove in silence for a few minutes. He was suddenly having second thoughts. Not about bringing Blair to the bust. That was a decidedly bad idea. But about taking Blair to the university. He hadn't been there since his kidnapping. But Blair had refused to wait at the station, and this had *seemed* like as good a place as any for him to wait.

"So, what are you going to do?" Jim asked cautiously.

"Hmm?" Blair asked distractedly as he thrummed and unfeeling beat on his thigh. "Oh, I've got work to do." Blair spoke quietly as the truck pulled into the Rainier parking lot.

"You gonna be okay?" Jim asked after parking, turning his body slightly to face his partner.

"Yeah. I'll be fine." He looked up into Jim's blue eyes. "*We'll* be fine."

"Yeah, we will." Jim agreed just before leaning forward and placing a kiss on Blair's lips. The kiss was strong, and powerful and spoke of love and passion, and the need to know that everything *was* going to be okay.

Moving his lips down Blair's jaw, to his neck, Jim spoke roughly. "God, I love you, Chief. If anything" He couldn't finish the thought.

Blair gripped Jim's face in his hands and turned him so they were practically nose to nose. "But it didn't. And it won't. You and I are a team. I got the information, now you go catch the bad guys." He smiled softly and placed a tender kiss on his Sentinel's lips. He pulled away reluctantly. "Now, help me out of this contraption, and into that one." He motioned towards the bed of the truck where his wheelchair was folded.

Jim nodded and let Blair go, climbing out of the truck to do what Blair asked. His love was right. They were a team. And things were going to be okay.

****

Blair Sandburg rolled around on the tile floor nervously. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Stop."

Blair did stop. He swiveled his chair around to face the speaker. Sid Weatherly was just coming around the corner, with Naomi Sandburg of all people. It was an unusual sight, and one Blair Sandburg wasn't entirely certain he was seeing.

"You're making me dizzy." Commented Sid as he rolled himself closer.

Blair looked from the older man, who was at his own eye level, up to his mother and then back again. "What?" He couldn't seem to make any other words come out of his mouth in any coherent fashion.

Naomi stepped forward and bent down to give her son a hard hug. "Sweetie, we couldn't leave you to the wolves, all by yourself." She stood up and looked around. "Where is Jim?"

"Meeting." Blair answered absently, still confused. "What are you doing here? Both of you?"

Naomi smiled. "Well, we talked." She offered, being purposefully cryptic.

Blair nodded his understanding, although he didn't understand, not at all. "You talked?"

Sid grinned. "Yeah. About Corrina. About Marcus. About everything in between."

This time when Blair nodded it *was* with complete and utter understanding. "That's good. It's been a long time coming."

"Yeah, it has." Naomi agreed.

Before anything further could be said a door opened. A woman stepped out and eyed the three people carefully. Her face was completely neutral, but as her eyes came to rest on Blair's face she broke out in a wide smile. 

"Congratulations! Mr. Sandburg, you are now a Doctor."

Blair was stunned for a second. He wasn't entirely certain that he had heard correctly. His dissertation had been a long time in coming. Nearly four years he'd been researching his Sentinel, and several times in the past year he had considered scrapping the book. Not because it was bad, or wasn't worth publishing, but because of the possible damage it could do to Jim. Then a couple of months ago he had gone through the entire thing and edited it, making sure there was no direct connection to Jim in any of the research.

The copy of his dissertation he had finally turned in, the one that he had defended today, was, missing some of his original research, but still retained the spirit of the original.

Still, he wasn't sure if it was enough. If he had presented it properly. But apparently, he had been worried for nothing. Because his advisor was standing here telling him he was a Doctor. A doctor of anthropology.

"Blair, honey? Are you alright?" Naomi's voice broke through his internal thoughts.

Blair blinked. "Yeah. I'm good. Real good. I can't wait to tell Jim."

**** 

Jim Ellison approached the familiar halls of Rainier University warily. Blair was defending his dissertation today. He was concerned about how it had gone. Blair had let him read it, before hand. It was good. Excellent, entertaining, and several other adjectives that Jim could name. But even Jim, with his somewhat small understanding of Anthropology in general and Blair's research in specific, knew that the final dissertation contained only a fraction of the anthropologist's research.

The detective was afraid it wasn't enough. That they wouldn't give him his doctorate. That he'd have to start over from scratch. Or worse. 

The past week had been really difficult, for both of them. Still learning to deal with the changes in their lives brought on by Blair's new physical restrictions, Sentinel and Guide hadn't had much time to talk, about much of anything.

They'd spent the past week staying in a hotel, not even having time to attempt to look for a new place to live. And between learning to live with the changes, and spending several nights with Naomi and Sid, they hadn't had much time to discus what would happen next.

Thanks to the information provided by Brian Whitaker when Jim had given him some 'special' attention, Gina Villarandes' location was uncovered and they had moved in to capture her, alive. However, Gina had other plans and was killed, along with three of her men in an explosion, which had taken out half of the building.

Jim couldn't claim to be upset by her death. As far as he was concerned, she got what she was coming to her. Although he would have liked to have been the one to kill her.

It was kind of ironic though; she died by her own hand, in a way. The weapons were hers. The detonator was hers. In the end, it was one of her own men who set the explosives off. She died just like her cousin. In pieces.

Still, he couldn't find it in himself to be happy about it. Blair was still paralyzed. He would never get the use of his legs back. He would never be able to work with him again, for anything more dangerous than paperwork.

But Blair was alive, and not planning on leaving him, so it was enough. More than enough.

His internal thoughts were halted as he heard voices. He slowed his steps as he listened. Blair was talking. To his mother. And Sid Weatherly. That realization alone was enough to concern him.

Blair had told him about Naomi's history with Sid's deceased wife, and in the eight days since he had met the paraplegic widower, any time Sid was in the same room with Naomi, one of two things happened.

Either a sudden and uncomfortable silence would fill the room, accompanied by pointed, accusatory looks. Or, Naomi would attempt friendly conversation, and somehow, Sid would direct the conversation to his wife and things that had happened a long time ago.

In any case, it was less than pleasant for Jim, and considerably more stressful for Blair. And to find them, here, in the halls of Rainier university, talking. Talking, not arguing, or practicing the merits of strained silence. It was a welcome surprise.

Jim turned the corner and could now match vision with sound. Blair was sitting in his chair, hugging some woman Jim could only barely recall meeting, with an enormous grin on his face.

"Chief?" Jim asked as he strode closer.

The woman pulled away and smiled at him as she quietly entered the door just to her left.

"Jim." Blair grinned. "I did it! I really did it."

Jim bent down and hugged Blair, letting go entirely too soon for his liking. "I knew you could." He told him, and it was true, mostly.

"What do you say we go out, to celebrate?" Sid asked jovially.

Jim turned to face the man, ready to agree when Blair's voice stopped him.

"Sorry, we can't."

"We can't?" Jim asked as he turned back towards his partner.

"No, Jim, we can't." Blair reminded him with exaggerated patience. "We have stayed at that hotel long enough. Besides weren't you the one who insisted on moving? So now you get to help find a place." He grinned slightly at the groan he knew would be forthcoming at the reminder of the task ahead of them.

Jim groaned because he knew it was expected but then smiled at the thought of finding a new place to live. Although the act of actually *looking* was less than pleasant, the idea of picking a new place, with Blair, more than made up for it.

"Hey, I wasn't the one who decided the building should be demolished." The words were said lightly, but they did carry an undertone of sadness. Both at the loss of lives at Gina Villarandes' hands and at the loss of their home.

Blair nodded silently and turned back to the two other people still in the hall. "Naomi, how long will you be in town?"

Naomi looked away for a second and then turned back to her son as she stepped forward. "I'm leaving tomorrow, honey. But I'll be back to visit next month."

Blair nodded, not really expecting to see her the following month, but not counting her out either. He rolled slightly closer to her, so that he could hug her. She bent down and engulfed him, the silk of her wrap almost flying around him, one end of it getting trapped in one of his wheels.

Sid silently rolled forward, so his own chair was next to Blair's and bent forward to unwind the fabric.

"Blair, I want you to call me. After you move, we can get your new place fitted with that equipment we talked about." He hesitated a second. "You called Mark?"

Blair turned away from Naomi, a hand still tightly clasped in one of hers. "Yes, Sid, I called Mark. I have an appointment tomorrow."

Sid nodded, satisfied and reached out a hand and squeezed Blair's shoulder. "Okay. Good enough. You call me." He smiled once and then maneuvered his chair around so it was facing the other direction. He turned to Jim. "It was nice meeting you, Detective. Take care of him."

"I will." Jim promised.

Sid seemed to take the words at face value and began to roll down the hallway. Once he turned the corner, Jim moved his gaze back to Blair and Naomi. Naomi was hugging him again.

"I love you, sweetie." She whispered fiercely, tears glistening in her eyes.

"I love you too, mom." Blair wiped a hand at his own watery eyes as Naomi stood up. She turned around and gave Jim a hug, squeezing him tightly. "Take care of my baby." She whispered in his ear. At Jim's answering squeeze, Naomi stepped away and disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two men alone.

**** 

"So, what now?" Jim asked after they had made their way to his truck, and were both seatbelted in.

"Now as in right this second, or now, as in what do I do now that I'm an actual doctor?" Blair asked as he quirked an eyebrow.

"Either. Both." Jim answered as he started the engine.

"Melissa, my advisor, she offered me a job. Teaching." Blair answered the toughest question.

Jim, hearing that there was more to come, kept silent.

"It's weird you know, because it's like everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed." At the raise of Jim's eyebrow, he continued. "I mean, I'm still here, at Rainier, still teaching maybe. And Simon says that I can still consult with the department, but I won't be able to ride along anymore, obviously." He glanced out the window for a moment before going on. "And you and I, we're still together." He whispered.

"Always, Chief." Jim said solemnly, with a level of emotion, anyone but Blair Sandburg wouldn't have believed possible.

"So, it's like nothing has really changed. But" Blair hesitated as he looked at his legs, which were getting more movement from the vibrations of the truck than they had of their own accord, in what was beginning to feel like forever. The weird thing was it wasn't so bad. Knowing that he would never walk again. Knowing that he wouldn't ride along with Jim anymore.

He was still alive. Still *with* Jim, and that was what was important, wasn't it? Everything was going to be okay.

"But?" Jim prompted.

"But everything has changed, hasn't it?"

Jim took his right hand off of the steering wheel and entwined his fingers with Blair's as he spoke. "Not the important things, Chief. Not the important things.

Yeah, they *were* going to be all right.

**** 

**The End **

**Okay, you should probably know, I am *thinking* of writing some sort of follow up to this, but nothing's been decided. If you have any ideas, feel free to [share them][1] with me :)**  


   [1]: mailto:kylia_bug@yahoo.com



End file.
